Playing on the boys team
by parmakai66
Summary: Tall, blonde and legs didn’t grow up to be soldiers, but this girl was out to prove everyone wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Unit and its characters do not belong to me. If they did, I wouldn't have cancelled one of the best shows on the tube. In meantime, I'm inviting them to my house for a party. Sue me if you will, but you'll have to get in line behind the student loan people, my mortgage company and my credit card.

A/N: I was so sad over the cancellation. I just rewatched final season and had a thought, so I decided to go with it. Read and enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated. I'm posting this early for AngieJR because she's having withdrawls.

Playing on the boys team.

Chapter 1

"Where'ya from?" the blonde asked the park ranger seconds after listening to the National Guard sit rep over the walkie.

In a whirlwind twenty-four hours, Army Warrant Officer Bridget Sullivan had successfully locked up a two-year undercover mission to expose a big bad guy in a terrorist ring, she met with a special forces operative and helped his team move in to make the arrest and then jumped a plane with the same team to head back to the states. They had barely crossed into US airspace when they learned that yet another terrorist organization had killed the Vice President elect, attempted to kill the President and President elect. Bridget volunteered her services to the Special Forces team lead, who eagerly took her up on the offer, and then immediately dumped her in the ranger station while _the team _searched for the bad guys in the woods.

"Colorado Springs," the man replied looking at Bridget with a perplexed expression on his face. "And you?"

"Central Iowa," she replied wistfully. It bugged her that she was stuck in the ranger station. _I survived with a terrorist for the past twelve months for criss-sake, I'm not dainty nor do I need to be handled with kid-gloves, _she thought looking out over the horizon. "Have you ever heard anyone call a buck a stag?" she half asked half stated.

"Not around these parts," the man said.

"Me either," she replied looking back at him with an odd smile. "I think the bad guys are playing soldiers and Indians."

"What? The bad guys are pretending to be soldiers?" the ranger confirmed shaking his head. "Your guy just said he was taking that sergeant with him."

"I know," Bridget replied staring out the window of the ranger station. Knowing the bad guys were playing soldier and being able to do anything about it were entirely different things. Luckily, for Bridget, thinking on the fly was her forte. "What did he say his name was?"

What Bridget Sullivan had to prove about herself with this team was no different than anything she had faced in her entire army career. Women like Bridget didn't join the army. Tall, blonde, legs and breasts didn't grow up to be soldiers, but nothing else satisfied her. She lived the life to appease her father, graduated from a notable college and attempted to survive in corporate life. After enduring a three years of groping hands and innuendoes from hypocritical corporate executives, she threw her power suit in the trash and opted for army fatigues and combat boots instead.

She was none too welcome among the ranks. Labeled with the Private Benjamin stigma, Bridget Sullivan had to work ten times hard than anyone else to prove she wasn't just a pretty girl in a skirt. She toiled long hard hours to make a name for herself and ironically found her niche in the undercover division at the Department of Defense. She was her division's secret weapon. The bad guys never suspected her of anything more than a set of legs. She never let the good guys get close enough to use her for anything that wasn't completely within the regs. Success was her only objective and it became her life. The downside of being so by the book was the loneliness that enveloped her. While it was easy to go on her last mission, acquiring assets and worming herself into the cadre of a terrorist cell, she missed the basics of friendship with good honest people.

Bridget hadn't even realized how much she missed it until she looked into Bob Brown's eyes when she passed him information at the bar. Then there was that expression on Jonas Blaine's face when he met with her guy for the first time and the banter with Mack Gerhardt and Charles Gray on the plane back to the states. Now she was working side by side with this team, answering to the call sign Jonas had assigned her on the fly. She was part of this thing by default and she wasn't going to hang them out to dry.

The buzz of an incoming text alerted Bridget to her phone and she read the message quickly. _My moment of truth, _she thought as she picked up the radio and keyed the mic.

"Snakedoc?"

"Go fast Red Cap, the comm's dying."

"Snakedoc, is there anyone not on the team near you?"

"Negative."

"I heard over the comm. Sergeant Ross said he shot an eight point stag. No one from Colorado calls a buck a stag."

"Maybe he's not from Colorado," Snakedoc replied. It was clear that he was annoyed with her. Bridget wasn't giving an inch.

"Negative. He specifically said he grew up around here," Bridget replied firmly. "He didn't come from nowhere because I checked and there isn't a Sergeant Ross in the Colorado National Guard. You got a bogey. He's the opposition."

-0-

That was the start of something, whether it was trust or not was debatable … but it was something. Bridget knew by paying attention and identifying the opposition, she had saved alpha team's asses. Getting the boys to admit it was another story entirely. Regardless of how the credit was placed, her actions earned her a spot on the team. So what if her first order of business was to do Ryan's dirty work with the alpha and bravo team wives? Bridget knew how to play the game well enough and in the end, the payoff was worth it. She was on the inside of the army's most elite team, an all boys club and come hell or highwater, she was damn sure going to stay.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Boyclub2

Four weeks in as the only female member of the unit and Bridget had graduated from executing Ryan's laundry list to temporary pointman ...er person for Zeta team. Zeta's main function was running recon until alpha, bravo, charley or one of the other "unit" teams swooped in to claim the bingo prize. It wasn't exactly what she signed on for, but Bridget made damn sure she did it better than anyone else. Red Cap, the call name she wore like a badge of honor, was becoming quite the expert on any variety of topics. Zeta team's bragging rights to her was quickly wearing away as the colonel felt more comfortable with Bridget's abilities and less nervous about her _femaleness _being a distraction for the men. Of course, a girl can only be a tomboy for so long, so when the building the housed Zeta's operation was the unfortunate victim of an earthquake, select members of alpha and bravo team were sent in to retrieve Bridget and her agency counterpart. It was the first day that Bridget Sullivan had to finally let her guard down.

"Roger that Dogpatch zero six," Bob Brown said crisply into the satellite phone.

Bridget heard his voice clearly and judged that he was standing just a few feet in front of her. Yet opening her eyes to confirm it seemed impossible. There didn't seem to be a word to describe the pounding in her head. Her limbs and eyelids felt heavy. Dehydration was one of her concerns, besides the cracked ribs and the pain screaming at her from her arms, hands, legs and pretty much anything else that moved.

Bridget had lost track of how long she and CIA Agent Jenna Seivers had been trapped in the small apartment. After the building practically cracked in two, she managed to get a distress call out to the TOC on what little life was left on her computer. Then part of the building collapsed and completely sealed them in. Bridget thought she had escaped major injury, but falling debris had pinched Seivers. Bridget hadn't heard from the woman in hours and wasn't even sure if her partner was still alive.

"Anything?" Cool Breeze asked.

"She's dead," the voice of Roy Zaptoff replied.

Bridget heard movement close to her and again struggled to see what was happening. She felt a hand on her arm and flinched at the contact.

"Bridge, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you," Bob said softly.

Red Cap felt Bob's hand on the side of her face and could smell his aftershave in every breath. It was a comforting sensation compared to the dusty taste in the room for the past however long she had been trapped. Distracted by Bob's smell, she barely was aware of her head tilting back or Bob pushing her eyelids up and blinding her with a flick of his flashlight.

"She's got a pretty big knot on the back of her head. Her pupils are dilated," Bob said to Zap. "Bridge, are you with me?"

The words were hollow in her ears. Between the thick odor of Bob's aftershave and the muffled sounds of a room, Bridget felt like she was having an out of body experience. She could see a fuzzy outline of the sergeant in front of her and could hear long drawn out sounds coming from his mouth, yet she could do nothing to move or even answer him. The static in the air, Zap's conversation on the phone, the clatter of the laptop being ripped apart, the whoosh of the fire engulfing the metal casing were all happening at a snail's pace. Bridget knew exactly what was going on, Bob had tasked the staff sergeant into clean up mode while he assessed her injuries.

"Red Cap, can you hear me?" Bob asked her again. His hand was on her chin, pulling her focus only to him.

"Hmmyaiekdysa," Bridget mumbled, thinking she spoke coherently. It was clear in her head at least. _I can hear you loud and clear. _The next breath Bridget took included a searing blast of smelling salts up her nostrils. The reaction was quick, her eyelids popped right open, her stomach lurched and her breath caught in her throat as she fought to keep her stomach contents inside her body. "Ugh, shiz," she mumbled finally able to form a coherent thought.

"That's my girl," Bob called not letting go of her face. "Bridge … can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

As her vision began to clear, she looked up into his warm hazel eyes. "Cool Breeze," she gasped, cognizant of his code name. "Ugh, I don't feel so hot," she mumbled rolling her head to the side.

"Well, I'm no doctor, but I suspect you have a concussion," Bob said. He handed her a canteen of water and helped her hold it while she drank. "Easy," he whispered as she gulped it. "Too much will make you barf. How many fingers?" he asked holding his hand in front of her face.

Bridget blinked to focus as she swallowed hard. _I hate this game, _she thought silently as she said three aloud. _Yeah, yeah yeah, _Bridget thought as she listened to Bob rattle off a dozen standard questions and she answered all of them about her ability to walk out of this hell hole and get back to the states. She could hear Zap in the background talking on the phone to the TOC getting their orders for a pick up.

"Navy will pick us up at the beach," Zap said shoving the phone back in his pocket.

Bridget trailed her gaze from Zap to Bob still squatting in front of her. The two men looked the same. Same bald head, same _I'm in the military _features. "I have to pee," she grunted as Bob slid his arm around her waist and helped her to stand up.

"You're going to have to hold it until we get to the boat," Bob said draping her arm over his shoulder.

"Ugh, not the answer I was looking for," she moaned as her crumpled body was forced up on her feet. She felt sick and hot all at once and slumped into Bob's body. "I can walk," she protested unsuccessfully.

"Really, ya could have fooled me," Bob remarked. "Man you're worse than Carlito. Zap give me a hand."

"Shezz, you're comparing her to Grey? It's a good thing we have a car," Zap laughed catching Bridget right before she collapsed to the floor.

Bridget started to cough and tasted the acidic rot of bile in her throat. "Bathroom," she said pointing across the room. The boys got the message quick and steered her toward the latrine. She barely made it to the stool as she coughed it all up into the drain. _Someone is standing behind me, _she thought as she bowed to the porcelain god. The hint of Bob's essence filled the air and any apprehensiveness flew right out the window. As Bridget tried to balance the battle in her stomach with her tough girl act, she felt Bob's hand at her neck. _He's pulling back my hair, _she noted as heat enveloped her body. _Bet he does that to his wife, _she thought when he ran his hand over her back to comfort her.

"You better?" he prompted as Bridget gasped for air.

"Better than dead?" she coughed. She sat back on her haunches and reached for the cabinet door under the sink.

"What'd'ya need?"

"Mouthwash," she mumbled grabbing the bottle and taking a long hard swig. She heard Bob chuckle as she swished it around in her mouth and spat it in the can. "Better," she mumbled dropping the capped bottle on the floor. She stood up and out of habit flushed the toilet. _Shit, that was dumb, _she thought staring at the swirling clump empty down the pipe.

"I'm surprised that worked," Bob grunted hanging onto Bridget's arm.

"Bob, I need…" Bridget's voice trailed off and she held his gaze. _I need to pee dammit before I wet myself, _she practically cried. _I'm surprised that I haven't already done it. _She stared into those damn hazel eyes of his and watched him consider the gamete of options before him. She could just order him out and kick the door shut behind him, but that wasn't exactly her style. Colonel Ryan pulled rank and gave orders. Bridget Sullivan was whatever the team needed her to be … even though she out ranked every damn one of them.

"Okay," he finally relented. "Make it quick and don't flush."

-0-

It was ten blocks to the beach and on a sunny day in Missouri it would have only taken a few minutes. But they weren't in Missouri by any stretch of the imagination and it was definitely not a sunny day. The threesome made it six blocks in the truck before some local yahoo shot out the tires out and put them on the run. On foot, it took several more minutes to their pickup point and that was slowed by the looters and the street thugs. At the beach, Cool Breeze dropped Bridget behind a wrecked out car and ducked to provide cover fire while Zap called in the water taxi. The fresh air seared Bridget's nerves with each breath quickly reminding her that every part of her body was on fire. _It didn't hurt this much when we were running, _she contemplated as she fought back the tears and tried to stow her emotion while her body felt like it was going to break in two. Just when she was sure it couldn't get any worse, things blew up in her face.

"We need to swim out," Zap whispered hoarsely. "The local government has refused the Navy's offer of aide. They can't get any closer without drawing fire."

Bridget looked at Bob just as he glanced back at her. "Do they understand that she's injured?" he said turning his head to look at their surroundings.

"They'll meet us on the way," Zap replied flatly as he pulled his pack off his back.

The conversation went on over her head as Bridget listened without saying a word. _I can swim. I swim in a pool, not good, but at least I don't sink. I passed basic swimming at boot camp, _she repeated in her head as she silently prayed that Zap was just making a joke and the Navy boat was going to run up on the beach any second. The reality was that it wasn't a joke and there was no boat in sight for miles on the water. Bridget watched Zap fuss with his pack and shove the hard drive from her laptop into a waterproof bag. She felt her stomach lurch in her gut. She started coughing just as street thugs sprayed the car with bullets.

"Get her outta here," Zap yelled laying some cover fire down. "I'll be right behind you."

Bob slid his arm around her waist, hauling her to her feet and headed toward the water.

Bridget scanned the horizon in the hopes that a boat was miraculously going to appear and found nothing. She stopped short at the water's edge and started to freak out. _I can't swim, _she rolled around in her head as she started to hyperventilate.

"What's wrong?" she heard Bob ask her after noticing her obvious hesitation.

"There's no other way?" she asked looking around wildly for another solution.

"No." Bob secured his pack to his body and started heading for the water. "Lose the sweater, it'll soak up water and weigh you down," he said crisply.

"I can't," Bridget balked.

"Yeah you can," Bob replied missing the clue in her eyes that it was her fear of the water that was causing the hiccup ... not that he asked her to strip in front of him. "Just like wearing a bikini top."

"No Bob," Bridget said grabbing his arm. "I can't do it. I can't swim." She watched his head whip around and she searched his face for some compassion for her predicament.

"You can't swim," Bob repeated plainly. "At all?"

Bridget looked out at the shoreline and into the horizon that led to nothing but water. Deep, dark cool water. She was sure there was a Navy ship out there waiting for them and a dingy full of Navy seals on their way to the rendezvous site. But none of that gave her any comfort. It didn't matter what the pluses were, it was still water that she wasn't comfortable in. "In a pool where I can see the bottom and touch it," she finally conceded.

"Then just think of it as a big pool," Bob said nonchalantly.

"No, you don't understand…"

"No _you_ don't, warrant officer," Bob interrupted her sharply. "This is our only chance to get out of here, do you got that? There is no other way. The government finds us here we're dead. This is it. We go now Red Cap or we die and frankly, I would really like to get home tonight."

Bridget looked away from him and felt tears in her eyes. _I knew I should have stayed with DoD, _she thought silently.

"You trust me don't you?" Bob asked Bridget and waiting a moment for her reply. "I'm not going to let you drown. I was ordered to rescue you and I'm damn sure going to see it through."

Bridget felt his eyes boring into her and could barely blink. She felt tears burning down her cheeks and teetered between being completely embarrassed for crying and mad because he fricken yelled at her. _I could court martial him for being insubordinate, _she thought. She tore her eyes away for a second and glanced back toward Zap. "Fine," she muttered reluctantly as she eyed the damaged skyline of the city.

"Good. Sweater off."

-1-

When her eyes fluttered open, the first sensations that flooded Bridget's mind were an annoying beeping sound, the color gray and a really really hard bed. A kid in surgical scrubs came to take her blood pressure. The guy looked like he was twelve and his words did little to comfort her as to her whereabouts or her status. The only comforting element was the doctor that appeared at the side of her bed with an American flag sewn to the arm of her uniform. The basic information she passed on was no revelation, concussion, bruising, and a sprained ankle. What Red Cap hadn't expected to hear was that she'd nearly drowned and was revived by Sergeant Brown when the seals picked them up.

_Guess he wasn't kidding when he said he wouldn't let me drown, _Bridget mulled over in her head as she lay back against the mattress. She pulled the blanket closer to her chest and rolled slowly on her side. In theory it seemed like it would feel better that way, although the movement happened in slow-mo and every nerve ending in her body protested. It took her a couple of minutes to get comfortable, which was short lived by an episode of coughing, vomiting and of course, girly crying. _So much for being tough, _Bridget thought as the med tech cleaned her up and helped her settle into a more comfortable position. Then he left her to contemplate her morality alone.

Two restless hours later, Bridget was still alone in sickbay. People had come into the room for treatment, but no one that she recognized at least. No Zap or Bob or even the female doctor that had treated her hours ago. _Shit, even the med tech is gone, _she noted starting to feel a twinge of apprehension. The heart monitor above her head began to beep a little faster. Her breathing became a little more labored.

"Bridge, you okay?"

The voice and the hand on her shoulder calmed her nerves immediately. "Bob?" she whispered looking up into those damn hazel eyes of his. "How long have you been here?" she asked pushing up on the bed.

"About an hour," he said adjusting the pillow behind her head.

"Wha? An hour?" she grunted completely confused.

"You were asleep," Bob replied sitting down on the side of the bed. "Your injuries aren't bad. A helo will be here tomorrow to fly us to the nearest base." He hesitated a moment before saying anything else. "You swim better than you own up too."

"Right," Bridget remarked slowly. "I heard you saved my life," she said waving her hands around nervously.

"Exaggeration," Bob shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "You made the swim okay; you just aren't very good at trending water."

Bob ran his finger down the side of her arm and Bridget relaxed into his touch. It felt good to have man pay attention to her, even if it was for nearly official reasons. "That's why I didn't join the Navy," she muttered leaning back on the pillow.

"Isn't your brother in the Navy?"

"Brother and Dad," Bridget confirmed.

"Hmmh, bet they weren't happy when you joined the Army," Bob grunted with a smirk.

"That's an understatement," Bridget agreed. "I needed to find my own way back then. Now I just need to blend in and not be a spectacle."

"You think you're a spectacle?" Bob asked her.

"I'm at a tactical disadvantage because I'm a girl."

"No, you got that wrong. Our tactical advantage is that you _are _a girl. It gets us in the door more easily. The bad guys are always looking for a man. No one suspects you," Bob said frankly. "You said so yourself when you asked … or should I say told the colonel that you had joined the team."

"One bold move gets a girl in the door and then stuffed in the closet," Bridget scowled under her breath.

"Hmmph," Bob laughed at her. "You think running recon with Zeta is the closet?"

"It's not in the field with Alpha," Bridget protested. "Or Bravo or Charley. I do all the dirty work and you guys sweep in to claim the prize."

"Ah, that's sounds like jealousy talking Warrant Officer Sullivan," he reminded her. "Our missions would be ten times longer without Zeta's team's efforts. We're all on the same team."

Bridget thought about his words and chided herself for being selfish. "Just not the swim team?" Bridget's frown turned slowly into a smile.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure your recruiter spewed some bull that a soldier never gets wet, but you're not in Kansas anymore," Bob said patting her hand. "I was a life guard in college. I can give you lessons."

"Let's see … you've taught me the sleeper hold, how to properly defend myself in a struggle and now you want to teach me to swim?" She watched an innocent blush creep over his face and a smile light up his eyes. "Is there anything you aren't good at?"

"Well, according to my wife, I'm not good at taking out the garbage or doing the dishes," he chuckled. He shrugged his shoulders innocently and stood up from the bed. "On that note, I'm going to let you rest and get some shut eye myself."

Bridget felt him squeeze her hand and held on an extra second before he walked away. "Thanks Bob."

"Any time partner."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Boyclub 3

The club music pounded out its beat and the crowd moved in time to it. Bridget laughed with her partner as she slinked around him. She could feel him touching her affectionately, possessively, sending an unspoken warning to everyone that she belonged to he. Bridget was relaxed with her partner, almost carefree and the chemistry between them was as obvious as the intent of her dress. She had chosen this revealing ensemble specifically for this moment, the lack of fabric between the collar and the hem fit in perfectly with the other patrons in the nightclub. The elements of their mission was set into motion the minute they walked through the door, yet Bridget's secret mission had started long ago in her loft, as she laid out her intel to the team.

The tempo changed as the two watched Jonas leave the room with the contact. The dance floor became more crowded, forcing the two into each other's space. Bridget noticed Bob looking at his watch and glancing in Mack's direction with an expression on his face that was unreadable.

"What's wrong?" she whispered in his ear.

"Just checking out the scenery," he replied. He wrapped his arm around her waist. "You're shaking," he commented turning his head to look at her.

Bridget looked into his eyes and melted into their warmth. Those eyes meant a lot more to her than anyone else on the team. There was something about Bob Brown that drew Bridget in like a magnet. He understood her like no other team member in a big brother sort of way. _Except that I don't want Bob Brown to play the big brother role with me,_ she reminded herself with a shallow sigh. _I always go for the unattainable; _she thought quickly refocusing on his words when she realized he was still talking to her.

"This part always makes me nervous," she stammered not sure if she was referring to how the op was going to play out or her close proximity to the man that captivated her dreams.

"Which part?" Bob replied slyly as if he could read her mind. "Maybe I can do something to help you relax," he added sliding his hand down her rear and pulling her a little closer.

It didn't go unnoticed to Bridget the man was as hard as a rock. His muscles were chiseled and tight. All of them. The swell in his pants rubbed hard against her thigh. Before she could move herself away from the friction, she felt his hand slip between her legs. A gasp escaped Bridget's lips as Bob's fingers grazed her hot box. _This is bad, but don't stop, _she whispered in her head as she remained focused on his eyes.

"You're wet," he said huskily without stopping what he was doing.

Bridget stifled a yelp as his fingers slid under the fabric of her panties and made their way inside. It didn't take long for him to stroke her to a frenzy.

"Bridge, you okay? You have that glassed over look in your eye."

The words jolted her out of the daydream and Bridget blinked several times. She watched his lips move and heard his voice in her ear, but her focus was completely elsewhere. _No where, _she thought as she began to fan herself. The swirl of the lights, the music and the odor of sweat were suffocating her. The scene that had played out in her head was just her imagination getting the best of her. She and Bob were still dirty dancing at the side of the dance floor, but they were keeping their respective distances from each other.

"I think I need some water," she mumbled pulling out of his grasp and heading to the bar. She could feel Bob follow her and heard him call the order to the barkeep. Bridget drained the glass the second the bartender set it in front of her.

"Thirsty?" Bob asked her arching his brow. He ordered her a second and she repeated the action wordlessly.

"Just a little hot," she muttered trying to hide her embarrassment from her lil daydream. _It seemed real enough, _she thought, confused whether or not Bob had reacted to her sexually. She glanced over at him and noticed his face was a blank slate. _Maybe it was just my wishful thinking, _she conceded.

"You're hot alright," Bob whispered huskily into her ear. He ran his hand comfortingly over her shoulders and peppered the side of her face with kisses.

_Okay, maybe not,_ Bridget's mind reeled as she pulled back a bit from his lips and turned her head in his direction. She caught the movement of his eyes over her shoulder and knew he was just putting on a show for whomever was watching. She fell right into his act by tracing her finger across his jaw, just before he tangled his fingers in her hair and planted a provocative kiss on her lips. _This is dangerous, _she screamed silently in her head. _I'm too attracted to him to make this anything but work,_ she argued with herself. The chemistry was what made this ploy of theirs believable. Bridget couldn't dirty dance with Mack Gerhardt. _No, he'd want to two step, _she thought smiling at the thought of it.

"Something funny?" Bob asked as he led her back to the dance floor.

"Just thinking if I was out here with Mack he'd wanna two step," she chuckled falling back into the rhythm with Bob.

"Ha, more like square dance," Bob agreed. "Do-si-doe," he joked as he twirled her out from him and then pulled her back. Close.

Close enough that Bridget's leg landed against his groin and this time they both knew exactly how hard he was. She didn't have time to think about it further when Bob muttered _trouble _in her direction. The temperature on this op just went to the boiling point.

-1-

The second night of the op, Jonas went out alone to track down information about the second buyer. Mack and Bob ran a little recon of their own and while Bridget took care of some other mission related items.

The real reason she bowed out of the recon was to distance herself from Cool Breeze for a while. Her daydreams about him didn't just stop when they left the club, she had a fitful night of sleep and ended up sitting in the windowsill at the far end of the loft watching the sunrise. After ten minutes, the object of her discomfort broke Bridget's moment of solitude.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said quietly as he shuffled toward her with a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

Bridget took the cup from him and sipped the liquid. He made it just the way she liked. "Thanks," she replied. "I see you got my number."

"Yeah, in more ways than one," he admitted sheepishly. "I feel like you're…. do we need…" he stammered over his words.

"To talk about what happened at the club?" Bridget finished the sentence for him.

"What's happening between us in general,'' Bob affirmed. He leaned against the wall next to her.

"I ah …. yeah, that's a little complicated," Bridget said taking another sip from the cup. "I guess it's not just me then," she asked looking over at him.

"No," he shook his head. "No it's definitely not just you. I ah…," Bob rubbed his hand across his brow as he searched for words to explain _it. _

"Maybe we just need to be aware of it and leave it at that," Bridget remarked, surprising herself at her own diplomacy.

"That's what you want?" Bob asked with a surprised expression on his face.

"Isn't that what you want?" She questioned him as her heart leapt out of her chest. _No, it's not what I want, but you're married and I'm an officer so anything more than a friendship is completely inappropriate, _she reminded herself sharply.

"I don't know what I want exactly," Bob admitted playing with the top of his cup. "The thought is tempting, but…,"

"It's too complicated," Bridget replied ruefully. She held her tongue over the ten other things she wanted to say and decided that it wasn't going to matter anyway. _Don't do this Bridge, _she told herself sharply. _You're just going to get hurt … again. _

"Don't worry, it's the story of my life, I always go after the unattainable." She watched Bob nod and pushed off the wall. He stepped closer to her that she expected and ran his finger down the side of her face. A flicker of anxiousness scampered through her veins while she quickly decided whether she was turned on by him or more concerned if he was about to kill her. _He could probably do it with that cup, _she considered as she looked up into his dark eyes.

"This job puts us in situations where we pretend to be people that we are not," he said quietly. "I don't want you to think that my words are disingenuous."

"I don't," Bridget replied reaching out for his hand. She squeezed it gently. "We just need to remember who we are when we go home."

"And when we're in the field?" he asked rhetorically. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?" Bob released her hand and took a sip of his coffee.

"Something like that," Bridget replied plastering a fake smile on her face to hide the hurt in her eyes. _Why do I have to be so tough all the damn time? _"I promise I won't come on to you," she whispered shoving down a lump of tears.

"Never say never," Bob replied quietly. "This job will take you places you never thought you would go."

-2-

Little did Bridget realize that she would be eating those words a mere twenty-four hours later, offering herself up as a hooker-bait to ambush the bad guys. It started out as a joke and then morphed into the best idea on the table. Bob was completely against it, not that it did much good. Bridget put the dress back on with some really red lipstick and shoved some padding in her bra to push her boobs up. Then she strutted to the door with Mack at her back and purred her way inside.

For all her toughness, Bridget found herself trembling as she smarted off to the rank breath men. The safe word was on the tip of her tongue, but for the first time ever she was right in the middle of an alpha team op, so there was no way she was going to even mutter it. _I can handle myself, _she thought as she pulled out of the main guy's grasp and walked to the window. She yanked the drapes open and felt a huge sigh of relief when she caught a glimpse of Bob in the shadows.

_I'm going down on this guy, _she nearly chuckled as she pawed at his belt and dropped to her knees. _And my pseudo lover is going to kill you for it, _she added ducking as Bob drilled the guy right in the chest. Shots sprayed the room keeping her low to the floor until she heard Bob crash through what was left of the window and Mack kick in the door. Bridget had no time to react as she picked herself up and secured the perimeter.

"Behind the couch," she called out as she shut the door.

"Whew," Bob whistled as Mack opened the trunk. "They make money the old fashioned way. They steal it."

"I guess the bidding is closed," Mack commented slamming the lid shut.

Mack stood up to make a call on his satellite phone and Bridget unconsciously wiped the back of her hand across her face. "Stop, you're bleeding," Mack said pointing at her face.

"No," Bridget balked shaking her head. "It's not my blood."

"All the more reason for you to stop smearing it across your lip," Mack remarked. He grabbed her arm and backed her into the restroom.

Bridget barely moved as Mack grabbed a towel off the rack and ran it under the water. She could see Bob in the doorway watching and she wished it was he in front of her instead. _Bob wouldn't handle me so roughly, _she contemplated as Mack carefully wiped the blood from her lip. The contact between them sent goose bumps up her spine. She glanced at Bob in the mirror and was sure she caught a glimpse of jealousy on his face. _Nice, _she commented silently as Mack tossed the cloth in the sink.

_Who says chivalry is dead. _

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Boyclub 4

The next eighteen days were a flurry of activity. Bridget was in and out of Fort Griffith with Charley and Bravo teams so often she barely knew if she was coming or going. The excitement even included the extraction of Alpha team from South Columbia that Colonel Ryan jammed her into at the last minute. Ryan gave Bridget all of ten minutes to get up to speed and despite she couldn't get the whole team out as planned, Colonel Ryan gave her one of his coveted well-dones. While the whirlwind tour was necessary, exciting and completely exhausting, it seemed a little too planned in Bridget's opinion. She kept questioning if it whole thing had been set in motion on purpose to keep she and Bob apart. It was a completely ridiculous thought since Bridget had reduced her attraction to him to nothing more than a school girl crush….but it made Bridget wonder all the same.

Maybe it was her overactive imagination … her fantasies polluting real life. She could almost convince herself that was the truth, if Bob hadn't been a little curt with her she saw him two days ago in the cave. _Of course, they had been out a month, _she contemplated as she stared blankly at her computer screen. To earn some extra bonus points, she had arranged for Bob to call his kids from her office. Even though the gratitude was apparent in his eyes, gone were the days of carefree banter between them. _Maybe he was just tired, _she reasoned knowing that whatever could have been between them and the friendship they so desperately tried to maintain had been damaged beyond repair.

"Warrant Officer Sullivan." The booming voice of Colonel Ryan echoed in the hallway as he cruised into her office and tossed a manila envelope on her desk. "Wheels up in ninety minutes, you'll rendezvous with Dirt Diver and Cool Breeze in Yuma."

"Destination?" she asked pulling open the top of the envelope.

"The three of you will extract Rocha's wife and kids from a Mexican resort and bring them back here," Ryan replied flatly. "Grey is in recon mode already. You and Gerhardt will be posing as newlyweds."

"Mack?" Bridget squawked in surprise.

"You have a problem with that Warrant Officer?" Ryan asked crisply.

"No sir," she quickly backpedalled. "What's Brown's role?"

"Sergeant Medawar is reaching out to our assets to get him a posting at the resort. Questions?"

It was a rhetorical, yet against her better judgment, Bridget ventured to ask who would be the lead on the op. The colonel didn't disappoint by responding Master Sergeant Gerhardt. Bridget watched the man exit her office as quickly as he entered it, glad that he was gone so he couldn't see the disappointment in her face. _Another mission where the boys are in charge, _she thought as she skimmed the briefing. _Why would I think it would be anything different? _she chided herself as she fingered through the papers. _Maybe I was better off at DoD. _Bridget gave herself a few more seconds to wallow in her discontent before she slammed the packet down on her desk.

"Well, they might be in charge," she said resoundingly. "But I have twenty four hours to play."

-1-

The anticipation of the mission was burning in the pit of her stomach as she landed in Arizona to meet Dirt Diver and Cool Breeze. Bridget couldn't remember a time when she was more nervous about an assignment. _Okay, maybe our basketball state championship, _she thought as she walked confidently from one aircraft to another. She watched Bob and Mack casually exit their jet and head toward the military plane that would take them to their destination. Their carefree attitude and casual friendship practically took her breath away. It was just another stark reminder that she wasn't really connected to the teams that she worked with everyday. Sure she lived on the same base as Charley, Delta, Gamma, and Zeta, worked side by side with Bravo and Alpha, but she didn't know these men other than by name. She was an outsider looking in at the candy store window. And to make it worse, on paper she was _one of them_, those officers that never lived in the trenches or understood the men.

_Except that I do understand, _Bridget thought as she settled her gear. _I enlisted and worked my way up and I'm damn sure not going to let them forget it. _

It didn't take long for the boys to try to break her confidence bubble and it was clear to her why Mack was in charge. As much as she wanted to act like she was the ranking team member on the mission, she didn't quite 'get' the whole thing. To her it seemed so cut and dried. _Bad people want to kill you so you need to be rescued, plain and simple. _That was her argument at least. Both Mack and Bob shot it down the second it came out of her mouth. Their logic was right, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

It didn't take much longer for Bridget to get the distinct impression the two of them had no desire for her to be there. After getting four of her ideas shot down, she sat back in her seat with a scowl on her face. _Why don't you be a little more obvious about how you don't want me on this mission, _Bridget mused as she glared in Bob's direction. As if he could feel her staring at him, he looked up and locked his eyes on her. _What I wouldn't give for a little mental telepathy right now, _Bridget thought tearing her eyes from his in a feeble attempt to hide her anger. _If I hadn't been assigned to this mission, then who would have been here to play Mack's wife? His real wife? Does she even know how to hold a gun? _She fished the envelope holding the rings out of her pack and held the diamond engagement ring in front of Mack's face.

"You ready to make an honest woman out of me?" Bridget asked Dirt Diver with a mischievous grin on her face.

"With this ring, I thee wed," Mack laughed, shoving the ring on her finger.

"Huh, that won't last," Bob grunted pulling his eyes away from Red Cap and back to his paperwork.

_Don't you wish, _Red Cap thought smugly as she sat back against the seat.

-2-

She heard the door to their suite click shut and footsteps pad across the floor, but it didn't stop her from unpacking her toiletries. Bridget glanced at the reflection of the ocean sunset in the mirror and silently wished she were on a real vacation with a man. _Or at least one man, _she noted arranging the few bottles she had brought on the top of the vanity. She turned to leave the room and ran smack into her _husband _standing in the doorway.

"Why are you unpacking all that stuff?" he asked crossing his arms at his chest. "We're not going to be here that long."

"In here, like in the room?" Bridget replied backing up a few steps. "Or at the resort?" She flicked the water on while he grunted out an answer.

"Both," he commented flatly. "Betty Blue and Cool Breeze are working out the plan. We need to be able to execute a fast exit tomorrow night."

"I'm clear on our objectives Master Sergeant," Bridget answered him brusquely. She watched his eyes narrow at the use of his rank. "However, if I'm not mistaken our goal is to get out clean without arousing suspicion. We're supposed to be on our honeymoon. Our room needs to _look_ like we're on our honeymoon." Bridget reached into the closet next to her, grabbed her silk nightie off its hanger, and then threw it at his face. His expression was unreadable as he caught it. Her attention to him wavered in her anger and before she could do a damn thing about it, he had her backed up against the closet doorway.

"So, ah…. are you going to officer up on me all weekend?" Mack asked as he pinned her between his arms.

_That was dumb, _Bridget yelled in head when she realized Mack had the upper hand on her. Mack was at least at two inches taller and physically he was stronger than she could ever wished she could be. She noticed a cold hard stare in Mack's eyes. She felt his hand cup the back of her head and his hot breath on her neck.

"What're you doing?" she blurted out trying to squirm away from him. It was useless, between his leg against her thigh, his grip on her head and his other hand pinning her hand against the door jam, she couldn't move. _Don't use all your energy at once. _The words flew through her head as a faded memory of her father yelling at her high school basketball game flashed behind her eyes. _Okay I could move if I needed too, _she noted as she relaxed a bit. "Let go of me," she remarked through gritted teeth.

"You didn't answer the question," Mack replied loosening his hold on her.

"Why I'm unpacking?"

"No," Mack said. "Why are you officering up?"

"To make a point," Bridget snarkled slipping out from under his body. She backed up against the vanity, getting some distance from him. Bridget felt her face flush and the temperature of the room jump up a bit. "None of you want me on this mission."

Mack tilted his head to the side and looked at her quizzically. "That is not a true statement," he informed her.

"Right," Bridget replied slowly nodding her head. "I'm not stupid you know. I can see it on your faces."

"What you see on our faces is disappointment," Mack remarked. He still held the nightie in his hand. "Our team had rotated off. I was looking forward to a nice quiet couple of days at home."

"And instead you have to play house with me?" Bridget replied ruefully.

Mack held the nightie up and inspected it carefully. "Are you wearing this to bed?" he asked looking at her with an arched brow.

"I might," Bridget answered.

Mack tossed it back in her direction. "I asked for you on this mission," he said as he headed toward the door.

"You did?' Bridget stammered. The words shocked the hell out of her. Alpha team _wanted _her. She swallowed hard at the revelation.

"Yeah and considering I had to beg, borrow and cheat Bravo team to get you reassigned, the last thing you should be thinking is that I don't want you here," he replied coolly. "So, you can just pack that rank crap of yours right back in your bag." He paused for a moment and looked at his watch. "Get dressed. We're meeting our neighbor for dinner in fifteen minutes."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Boyclub 5

The warmth of the hands massaging the tight muscles of the back of her neck melted away the stress from her restless night of sleep. It wasn't easy sharing a bed with Master Sergeant Mack Gerhardt. On a normal day, she would find sleeping with a handsome guy fun and exciting, but sleeping with a restless lug like Gerhardt was … well, was probably the most uncomfortable things she had ever done.

"I don't remember him snoring that much," she mumbled under her breath as the therapist hit straight on a knot at her shoulder. "Ah," she moaned

"What was that?" the male voice asked as he put a little more pressure on the spot. "Deep breath, exhale slowly," were the instructions he gave as the knot gave away under his fingertips.

"Does he always snore?" she asked strategically through her exhale. "I don't remember him snoring in Kosovo."

"Only when he sleeps," Bob whispered sliding his hand across her shoulder blades to the next knot. "You're really tense," he said a little louder as she grunted in protest.

Bridget got the message in the change of his volume level and turned her head to see a female resort employee enter the cabana with a stack of towels. "I had a rough night," she said loud enough for the woman to hear. "My husband gave honeymoon night a new meaning," she added with a smug smile on her face "Ow!" she grunted again in protest as Bob pressed roughly on another knot.

"I'm sorry ma'm. Is the pressure too much?" Bob asked in his calmest _I am a real massage therapist _voice.

"Ah, no," Bridget squealed as he mercilessly rubbed the muscle free. _He's being rough on purpose because of the innuendo, _Bridget told herself noticing that he went back to a nice gentle rub after the woman walked away. "I meant because he's a bed hog," she growled glancing over her shoulder to glare at Cool Breeze. "We had a king bed and he practically took up the whole thing."

"You could have slept on the floor," Bob said shrugging his shoulders. He walked around the side of the table to change positions.

"Huh, right," she muttered under her breath. "Where did you sleep last night?"

"On the plane," he said adding more warm oil to her back. Bob smoothed it over her skin and began kneading her flesh again.

"Hmmm, you're good at this," she gurgled as she settled her head back down on her hands. "How did you…"

"I took a class in college," he said kneading her muscles. "So what's the real reason you're stressed?"

"Other than we're in paradise and I can't enjoy it?" she muttered gritting her teeth against the feel so good pain.

"Yeah."

Bridget sighed heavily and turned her head into the crook of her arm. "I feel like you guys don't want me around."

"That's ridiculous," Bob replied as he continued to work his magic on her back. "We requested you."

"Hmmph," Bridget grunted feeling a canned answer in the air. "Right. So why do I feel like the newbie all the time?"

"Because you're new," he said as he moved around her head to the other side. Bob ran his fingers down the side of her torso and chuckled as she jumped from the sensation.

Whoa!" she blurted out. She snapped her head around to look at him and caught him innocently messing with the sheet. They made eye contact and he winked at her.

"Roll over," he directed her holding the sheet up discreetly. "You're making more of this than you need too. Everyone feels that way when they are new. I thought Mack was going to kick my ass my first few months."

"Is that what this is?" Bridget asked snuggling down under the drape.

"Sort of … but not really," Bob replied. "You're at a tactical disadvantage because you're not a ranger, but you make up for it in other ways." He ran his hands over her arm and started to knead the palm of her hand.

"Being a skirt?" she replied rhetorically.

"Skirts are prissy," Bob commented. "You're one of the guys …you're not afraid to get dirty _or _wet. And not that I like it … but using your sexuality as a weapon is just a bonus."

"You don't like it?" Bridget repeated with an arched brow.

"Ugh huh," Bob grumbled. His demeanor changed suddenly when one of the bad guys walked by the door of the cabana.

"Senor Summers, your one-o-clock appointment is here," the man stated glaring at the two with a look that could melt ice.

"Thank you," Bob replied in an all business tone. He glanced down at Bridget lying on the table and held a non-verbal conversation with her using only his eyes.

"What is the name of that oil you used?" Bridget asked sitting up on the table, exposing her bare back to the man at the door.

"Evergreen. Oh, don't get up too fast, you might be a little light headed," he said when he caught the woozy look on her face. Bob turned to the credenza behind him and poured her a cup of water. He handed it to Bridget and rested his hand on her shoulder protectively. "I might have an opening in my schedule later today. Maybe your husband should stop by. I could try to do something to relax him."

"Ha!" Bridget choked spraying the water all over the floor. The thought of Bob Brown giving Mack Gerhardt a sports massage cracked her up. "I'd give anything to see that," she chuckled.

-0-

The sun on her back felt great as she stretched like a cat in her lawn chair. Between the massage Bob had just given her and the warmth of the ocean air, Bridget Sullivan was getting very sleepy. It was so tempting and easy to just close her eyes and forget that the only reason she was at the resort was to save the life of the woman sitting next to her.

"Hey babe," Mack's voice loomed over her. "You're starting to get red."

"Huh?" Bridget mumbled lifting her head up from her arms.

"Did you take a nap, sleepy head?" he asked cupping her face with his hand. He squatted down next to her and planted a kiss on her lips.

"Hmm, yeah, I guess," she mumbled. _His breath is always fresh, _her mind locked onto the thought as she tried to shake the cobwebs from her mind. _That rub was a little too relaxing, _she noted as she scooted over to let him sit down. Bridget barely flinched when Mack unfastened the strings of her suit and dumped the warm sunscreen on her skin. Bridget let the moment play out on cue, doing what honeymooners would do. Silently she compared the rough feel of his hands to the smooth grip of Bob Brown. There was no comparison and in her fantasy, it was Bob Brown playing out this game of house with her … _except we're not on a mission. _

"Penny for your thoughts," Mack whispered huskily in her ear. He tied the straps and nudged her on the side to get her to roll over.

"Hmm, wouldn't you like to know," she chuckled rolling on her side to face him.

"What I'd like to know is how you got this bikini past your dad," Mack said rubbing more sunscreen into her arm.

"My dad?" she guffawed, slapping him on the leg. The reference was to Colonel Ryan, another example of how the man had her under his thumb.

"Yeah, your dad," Mack smarted back with a huge grin on his face. He fingered the strap that led down to her breast. "He's a little conservative and this suit definitely is not."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," she replied with a sly grin. "I'm not the nun he has led everyone to believe." Bridget casually glanced over her shoulder at Mrs. Rocha sitting behind her to see if she was listening. She played it off like she was reaching for her towel and then pushed herself into a sitting position next to Mack.

"Well, I like it," he proudly announced, tangling his fingers in her hair and planting a deep kiss on her lips.

The contact was wet, but not sloppy. Bridget could feel his tongue dance across her lips and then meet hers in a quick foray. It felt like it lasted forever, a moment stolen in time, but a moment was all that it would was meant to be. A second later, Bridget pulled back from his lips. "I'm going to jump in the pool," she whispered breathlessly. "Wanna join me?" she asked searching his face for a sign that anyone was watching them.

"Now you know I'm not too much into the water thing," he replied looking just over her shoulder at Grey. "You go. I'll stay here and watch the towels."

"Okay fuddy-dud," Bridget joked standing up from their chairs. "Have fun with your magazine."

-1-

The water was cool on her skin. She swam through it effortlessly, weightlessly. _Almost,_ she chuckled remembering Bob's comment about her swimming abilities after the earthquake. _At least I can touch and see the bottom here, _she noted as she pushed off and floated across the pool. The advantage point allowed her to watch the bad guys without them noticing her …. _too much. _There was more than one reason she brought the hot pink bikini this trip.

Bridget watched her main target walk toward the pool area from his cabana. He stopped to talk to some guests along the way and corralled a little kid from the edge. She tore her eyes away from him and cut through the water to the other side of the pool, dodging the kids with the beach ball and the fat lady straddling the water noodle. _That's a cause for comment, _she snickered glancing up in Gray's direction.

"Oh, Senorita," Bob's voice called to her.

"Richard," Bridget responded. She paddled closer to the side where Bob was squatting. _Figures he'd be on the deep end, _she commented reaching out for the wall to steady herself.

"I'm teaching a water basics class tomorrow morning if you'd like to attend."

Bridget twisted her lips to the side, unsure if she wanted to smack him for the dig or drag his body into the pool. "My husband and I are going on a boat tour tomorrow," she replied quickly.

"Oh, wear your life jacket," Bob remarked, his eyes sparkling with laughter at his joke. "It's always better to be safe than sorry."

"But with the right partner, the ocean is beautiful and safe," she snarked back at him with a gloating smile on her face.

"Well, your husband seems rather protective," he commented. "Be safe," Bob added standing up and leaving the side of the pool.

What seemed like innocent banter at the side of the pool was only a ruse to set their plan in motion. Bridget turned and swam across to the ladder and stepped out of the pool. She tossed her hair seductively on her shoulders and squatted to pick up her towel. She walked provocatively past the bad guys and accidently dropped her sunglasses right at their table. She leaned over to pick them up and practically flashed her breasts to the creep to distract him while Carlito and Bob had an exchange of words. Then on cue, she stood up and sashayed back to her chair and to her _husband _and their real objective. Within minutes, Bob walked past their chairs and offered the training session to Mack, confirming the rescue was in motion. Now, they just needed to convince Mrs. Rocha of it.

-2-

It didn't take much convincing, first the rescue mission went bust when the bad guys tried to kill Bob in the massage salon and then they abducted her daughter in a O.K. corral type shootout in front of the resort. When everyone thought things couldn't get any worse, the daughter nearly drowned in a well while Bob and Mack frantically worked to free her.

The whole thing was exhausting and it caught up with Bridget quick once they were back on the plane. At first the nervous energy kept her going. She and Mrs. Rocha helped Josephina get out of her wet clothes into a flight suit and then wrapped the girl into a blanket. She was working on getting the family settled in the plane when Bob climbed onboard.

"Hey, everybody decent?" he questioned peeking around the corner.

Bridget looked back at the door and caught his eye. "Yeah we're good," she said walking back in his direction. She watched him step in and stow his gear on the rack above the seat. _He changed his clothes, _she noted as she watched him wordlessly. A dry pair of jeans, a black t-shirt that showed off his chiseled muscles, black combat boots covered his features, _very nicely_.

"You okay?" he asked turning back toward. "You look tired."

"Long day. I had this outstanding massage and then laid in the sun too long," she said replied jokingly. "I think I'm tired, hungry and…"

"Wet?" Bob added cutting her off. He gestured at her pants. "Your jeans …are they still wet?" he stammered when he realized the implied connotation.

"A little," she muttered sitting down on the bench. "They'll dry."

"Yeah, they will and with the draft in here, you'll end up with pneumonia. You need to change," he said in that tone of his that screamed _don't argue_.

_No wonder Bob's a father … he's got the facial expressions, the glaring eye stare and the tone down pat, _she thought as she rolled her head to look up at him. "You on the health committee now?" _I shouldn't have sat down, _she thought getting more sluggish by the minute. "I'll be fine. I don't have anything to change into."

Bob walked over to the storage locker and pulled out a flight suit. "You're tired and wet. We have a three hour flight in front of us. Change," he said flatly.

Bridget bit her lip and glanced around the aircraft. She knew better than to argue with him, but there wasn't a lot of privacy in the cabin area. If it was just the team, Mack, Bob, Carlito, and the flight crew, she wouldn't have had a problem striping down to her skivvies. _With these kids here? _"I ah …." she mumbled tilting her head at the back of the plane.

Bob caught the movement and picked up a blanket from the rack. "I'll block the view. Now out of those pants Sullivan. That's an order," Bob replied with a half smirk on his face.

-3-

Ninety minutes later, Bridget found herself slumped against Mack's shoulder, drooling on his sleeve. She sat up and ran her hand across her mouth to wipe away the wetness. She glanced around the back of the plane and took inventory of the occupants. The Rocha's were knocked out. Bob and Carlito were fast asleep and Mack, Mack was wide awake

"Sorry, did I wake you?" she whispered.

"Maybe," Mack replied, pulling his arm back from around her shoulders.

"I think I drooled on you," she commented pointing at him arm.

Mack looked down at the wet spot and shrugged his shoulders. "It's okay, Carlito does it all the time." He watched her fidget in her seat, nervous for an unknown reason. "You did a good job today."

"Running interference?" she asked with a sad smile.

"Yeah running interference," Mack said. "One person is assigned the task on every mission."

"Is that why I was allowed along?" Bridget asked him hesitantly.

"When are you going to get that chip off your shoulder?" Mack retorted. "You need to stop thinking you're here on a visitor pass and start acting like your part of the team."

"Am I?"

"You're here aren't you?" he said pushing it back on her. "Although I think Bo, Zap, Henry, Merk and Square would have an opinion about it."

"Huh?" Bridget grunted in surprise as a confused expression crawled across her face. The names were the other leads from Bravo, Charley, Zeta, Delta, and Gamma teams. "What opinion would they have about me?" she asked quizzically.

"Well, they all have laid claim to you," Mack replied skooching down on the bench. "Unfortunately I had to remind them that your first alliance is to Alpha."

"That's what you think?" she asked carefully. "Honestly?"

"You've had our back from day one Bridge," he said frankly. "You picked us remember?"

Bridget sat back on the bench with a faint smile on her lips. _I'm finally in, _she thought to herself as she trailed her eyes around the aircraft. _These men are my team. My team. _The words brought a comfort to her that she had been missing for years.

"Get some sleep," Mack's voice droned on in the background. "We have another eighty minutes or so of flight time. Just do me a favor…" his voice trailed off.

"What?" she asked turning her head in his direction. She caught a hint of laughter on his face.

"Do it quietly," he laughed. "You snore like a cow."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Boysclub 6

The mission to save the Rocha's was a turning point in Bridget Sullivan's career. She left not knowing her place in the pack and came home a full-fledged member of the team. Maybe she was "in" all along to everyone else, but that one twenty four hour gig changed it all in her mind. After that, the new and improved Bridget Sullivan was an all-star to everyone and often the teams tried to "double book" her assets, something that silently pleased Bridget in all the right ways. Her time was split between coordinating in the TOC and being in the thick of things in the field. She was learning on the fly and loving every minute of it.

For the first time in a long time, she had a home. Gamma and Charley teams made her an official member of their 'bowling' league and she forged a friendship with Kayla Medawar and Sarah Irving, the female sergeants from the TOC. The wives were even accepting her, once she convinced them she wasn't trying to get the men into bed_. _Everything in her life was congealing smoothly. She had friends and family and a sense of duty to them all.

So when Alpha team went traipsing into Syria to rescue Betsy Blaine, there wasn't any question whether or not Bridget Sullivan would have their backs. The words ordering the chopper pilot into the air to rescue _her team _came out as easily as saying thank you to someone holding open the door. And when Kayla glared at her in disbelief, Bridget could only shrug with indifference at the consequences. There wasn't any other option. She wasn't going to hang the team out to dry. Tom Ryan knew it when he left her in charge of the TOC and when he lojacked himself into getting captured. Bob Brown knew it when he gave her the coordinates in Syria and even Kayla knew if when she questioned Bridget on how she was going to pull off the rescue. Decisions come with consequences and only the weak run to hide. Bridget Sullivan wasn't running.

-0-

"Red Cap!"

Bridget looked up to see Beau Dauber, Bravo team lead, poke his head through the door of her office. Six hours had passed since she ordered the chopper into Syria. Bridget had spent most of that time in the TOC, and had only retreated to her office a mere thirty minutes ago.

"We just got word, Alpha team is on the ground in Germany," he said stepping inside the door. "Betsy is going into surgery, the prognosis is good."

"Great," Bridget mumbled. She was on the fence with her emotions, trying to balance the lack of regret and the sick feeling in her gut.

"You don't sound too excited about that," he replied walking closer to her desk.

"All part of the job sergeant," she replied ruefully.

The man waivered in front of her desk. "Ah, are we back to that again?" he questioned her crossing his arms at his chest. "You did the right thing, Bridge."

"Did I?" She mumbled. "I guess I'll be able to contemplate that while I rot in Leavenworth."

"It's not going to go that far Bridge," Dauber said rolling his eyes. "You just saved the Colonel's ass out there. Do you honestly think he won't come back and fix this?"

"I guess I'll have to wait and see," Bridget remarked playing with a pencil sitting on top of her desk.

Beau pursed his lips and dropped his hands to his waist. "You know what?" he said taking another step closer to her desk. He rested his palms on the edge and leaned toward her in an intimidating poise. "I'm going to give you about three more seconds to stow this pity party of yours in your desk drawer and then you need to get your head back in the game."

His crisp words caught her off guard and she felt like her dad had just dressed her down in front of her friends. "Is that an order?" she guffawed.

"If it needs to be, then yes," he replied looming over her.

"You can't give me an order, I out rank you," she said pushing her chair back from him. The proximity was making her nervous. Bridget knew exactly what Beau Dauber was capable of doing with his hands and she wasn't that excited to be the victim of it.

"No, no, no," he rattled off pushing up from the desk. "That's where you wrong Sullivan," he said waving his finger in the air. "You're a member of my team and you report directly to me. On paper, you're a warrant officer and yes, technically you outrank me. But under my command, I have every power to give you an order and like it or not, you need to follow it."

"I'm not assigned to your team today, Master Sergeant," Bridget fired back at him. "And you have no right to speak to me that way." Bridget jumped out of the chair and paced to the other side of the room. He had pushed her buttons and it was making her angry and hot. _And damn it feels good! _

"You're always assigned to my team. You're official role in the unit is tactical support to the operators," he smarted back to her. "So yes, I have every right to talk to you that way." He milled around the office in front of her and shoved his finger in her face.

The anger bubbling under her skin from the mission, the impending doom of a court martial and his taunting words sent her temperature into the boiling point. _And he has the nerve to shove his finger in my face? _Bridget lashed out in the only way that made sense of her at that moment. The second her hand made contact with his skin, she regretted it. _That felt great … but geezus it was ….fra…. he could set me up on charges, _she chided herself as the emotions rumbled through her.

Beau glared at her with an expression that only meant death. Silence settled in the room for a good minute before he made any comment to her or even moved an inch. "Are you done?" he finally asked.

"Done with what?" Bridget responded with a perplexed arch in her brow. His statement confused the crap out of her. Beau was standing ridged in front of her, his jaw clenching and the veins of his forehead practically bulging out of his scalp, yet his voice was calm and level as could be.

"With the pity party," he said relaxing his entire body.

Bridget rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the side. She crossed her arms at her chest. "You baited me," she said flatly, annoyed as all hell that he knew how to push her buttons.

"Well, yeah, it was the only way I was going to get your head out of your ass," Beau replied frankly. "I know what your hot buttons are," he added.

"And you used them against me," she said slumping down in the chair in front of her desk.

"Did it work?

She watched Beau sit on the edge of her desk before she answered. Bridget took a deep breath and sighed. "I feel better."

"Good," Beau nodded. "You still hit like a girl," he added with a smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she questioned.

"Six months in the unit and you can't deliver a slap harder than that? That's an embarrassment to our training régime."

"Maybe I was holding back," Bridget replied with an innocent grin.

"Huh, right," he chuckled as he stood up from her desk. "I know you too damn well Bridget. I know that pissed off look in your eye. We just need to work on what you're going to back it up with."

"Diplomacy, sergeant," she replied.

"Diplomacy won't save your ass in a fight," he said walking over to the door. "You ready to get back to work?"

"Sure," she replied. She stood from the chair and followed him into the hall. "I don't like the view in there."

-1-

The veil of security was pulled from her a week later when JAG showed up on the base with a warrant. Sergeant Irving raced down the hall to corral the warrant officer into Ryan's office while Kayla and the colonel ran interference with the guards. Bridget paced like a cage lion, waiting for the colonel's orders. Twenty minutes later he strode through the door and barely paid her any attention as he walked to his desk.

"The M.P's out there?" Bridget asked the minute the door closed.

"That's right," Ryan said walking around behind his desk.

"What will they do?" Bridget felt her stomach lurch and her heart rate kick up a notch. This was the moment of truth and inside she was praying that Colonel Ryan was really going to have her back.

"Well, they'll search the base. There's just the two of them, so it'll take a while," Ryan replied flippantly. He picked up some folders off his desk and tossed them into his briefcase.

"Colonel, I'm ready to turn myself in," Bridget said with hesitation. She wanted to be confident for the team, the colonel and even her family, but the thought of going to prison scared the hell out of her.

"You're getting out of dodge," Ryan replied slamming his briefcase shut and picking it up.

"AWOL?" Bridget questioned her commanding officer with a perplexed expression.

"You let me worry about the acronyms," Ryan said heading for the door. "You're getting off the base and out of the country. Let's go!"

Bridget turned to follow him, hearing her father's words in her head. _Only cowards run. _The words played over and over like a broken record. They were the cause for the nauseous feeling she had lived with for the past month and bitter taste that building in the back of her throat. She couldn't run.

"Sir," she protested in the doorway as the Colonel checked to see if the corridor was clear. "Sir, I knew what I was doing and I'm prepared for the punishment."

"Your file and that of the rest of the team have been expunged from the DoD data bases. You no longer exist in the military. The last thing I need is a bunch of greenhorn JAG lawyers churning up your true id. We spent a lot of money burying you. We don't want the curious digging you up."

"All the same colonel," Bridget started to protest just as Ryan cut her off and ordered the corporal at the door to hold up the M.P.'s and JAG if they came by.

Bridget milled around nervously as the colonel gave the soldier his order. She knew it would come down to this, everyone in the unit knew that it would. Bridget Sullivan knew what duty was and running was a cop out, even if it was an order.

"We're hopping a C-31 to California. You're riding in the jump seat off the manifest. You'll travel through to the Philippines, instructions will follow you later," Ryan said briskly as they walked up to the back of an awaiting car. "Your go bag is in the truck."

Bridget blinked as she tried to process the information he was throwing at her. There was no turning back now. "How long will I…?" she stammered as he cut her off again.

"Until death or I cut lose that tie. Who said that?"

"Richard Kipling, sir," Bridget answered reluctantly. Fear and discord was apparent in her voice and on her face and she noticed Ryan eyeing her carefully. It was all she could do to keep the tears out of her eyes.

"You saved our ass in Syria. You did it at risk to your own career. Well done."

Bridget bowed her head in respect and mumbled a thank you sir in a hushed voice. Accolades from Colonel Ryan came few and far between and his message was loud and clear. He was sending her into hiding to buy some time to fix this and as much as Bridget didn't like it, she had to play along.

Bridget pulled the car door open and sat inside next to Colonel Ryan. She glanced sideways at the man that held the keys to her future.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I stepped out of the POV a little to make these next two chapters work, so I apologize if it throws you for a loop. I tried to play this part a couple of different ways, but thought this worked the best to tell my version of Bridget's story.

Boysclub 7

_It ain't easy being green. _Bridget Sullivan hummed the tune as she made her way through the street market picking out vegetables for her evening meal. _Another meal alone_. Three months had passed since Colonel Ryan put her into hiding and not a hint of any reprieve from JAG. Sometimes Bridget Sullivan felt like she was never going to go home.

The Syria move cost a lot more than just her career. She missed her family and her friends and the guys from the team. Occasionally someone would show up to 'entertain' her for awhile, but those visits were short lived – directed by the tell-tale ringer of their cell phones. Bridget had plenty to do to keep busy, Kayla and Sarah filtered work to her through secured lines. She kept an eye on the terrorist groups hiding around Manila. She filed reports under her cover name and conversed with the TOC on a limited basis. Yet she missed the life she had become accustomed to and suddenly understood the anguish the Alpha team wives had felt in their forced relocation.

The market was a few blocks from her warehouse loft. Bridget smiled at the chaos of it all, the street musicians pounded out their tunes, children darted between the stands as the bartering and banter echoed off the concrete. The area was a little seedy, but she felt comfortable here. _And safe in a weird way, _she told herself as she neared one of her favorite stands. _As much comfort as a person can have with a 45 tucked under the shirt, she_ noted silently. The comforting feeling was a fleeting thought when she failed to see the elderly woman that ran the stand. Not only was the woman not there, but the goods on display were not the usual fair.

_That's not normal, _she thought as she scanned the surrounding area. Her inclination was to ask questions, but her gut told her to retreat. _Perhaps it's nothing, _she said trying to calm herself. It was odd. The woman was there every day that Bridget had come, befriended her, and now today, she was gone. _Why today,_ Bridget thought backtracking through the market. She stopped to pick up a few last things and headed across the street to begin her trek home.

She hesitated at the light and scanned the faces in the crowd. _Someone is watching me, _she contemplated as she looked for suspicious activity. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to her and she continued on her way. _I'm being paranoid, _she told herself as she headed out of the square, forcing herself to walk no faster than she did on her way to the market. _No reason to draw attention, _she said as she dodged a small child running in her path.

Turning down the side street that led to the warehouse gave her some sense of security. Two of the buildings were wired with a direct feed to the TOC. _That is if anyone is watching the damn thing, _Bridget scowled wondering sometimes if Colonel Ryan had just dumped her down here to die. The entryway to her building, the cargo elevator and the back stairs to her floor were all bugged as well. _If something happens, someone will come …someday, _she thought as she stuck her key in the door.

What happened next confirmed her suspicions. She had just cleared the doorway when she was shoved against the wall. The force of the impact knocked her purchases to the floor. In the struggle that ensued, she lost her gun and had to fall back on her unit training to defend herself. Unsuccessfully. At one point, Bridget managed to get her hand on the panic button that Beau had installed near her mailbox, but before she was sure she had activated it, she was rough-housed down the hall with a hand to her face and a gun stuck in her ribs.

_This girl's in deep shit, _she thought as she struggled against the brute that was man-handling her.

-0-

"Colonel?"

"You rang?"

Mack and Bob asked as they walked into the workroom at Aerodyne Alliance. It was they're day off and the two men were none too happy to hear the phone ring.

Colonel Ryan stood near the work bar staring at a computer monitor. "We got a problem gentlemen," was his only reply. "TOC picked up these security clips from Warrant Officer Sullivan's apartment in Manila a few minutes ago." He gestured at the computer screen and replayed the footage for the two operators viewing. The scene disgusted him to the core. Warrant Officer Sullivan had risked everything to save their asses in Syria. He sent her away to try to save hers. He never considered some thug attacking her in the entryway of her apartment and what was worse … he was sixteen hours away from doing a damn thing about it.

"How did we get this?" Mack asked watching Bridget struggle against the man.

Ryan rewound the footage a few seconds and paused the playback. "She activated the panic button here which turned it on live in the TOC," Colonel Ryan replied.

"And nothing since?" Bob asked with a concerned tone in his voice.

"It's only been twenty minutes," Ryan replied. His cell phone rang and he answered it brusquely. "Dogpatch zero six."

"Geezus," Bob mumbled under his breath as the Colonel rambled in the background to the TOC. He ran his hand over his brow and paced around the side of the room. "How long is the flight to Manila?" he asked Mack.

"Sixteen hours the last time we deployed," Mack growled resting his hands on his hips. "She can hold till we get there."

"Are you sure about that?" Bob questioned Gerhardt a little louder than expected. "Hand to hand combat isn't exactly her forte. That guy is twice her size."

"She is a trained soldier," Mack reminded him sharply.

"Come on Mack," Bob argued. "It's different with guys. They fight and resist. Women are vulnerable."

"Let me repeat myself....she can hold," Mack said slowly. "She completed SERE school successfully." He caught the nervous look in Bob's eye. "I don't feel any better about it than you do, but I know Red Cap and come hell or high water, she will resist and hold until we get there."

"Kayla's sending more video they pulled from the security cache," Ryan said pointing to Cool Breeze to pull it up. "Yeah, we got it. Cool Breeze and Dirt Diver will be wheels up in thirty."

"What the hell?" Mack grunted as he watched the video feed. "She was made," he concluded as the three watched a male step from between the buildings as Bridget left her apartment on her errands. The male crossed the street, entered the front door of the warehouse, and was picked up by the entryway camera nosing around by her mailbox and her door before hiding in the wings, waiting for her return.

"Freeze the frame right there," Colonel Ryan instructed Sergeant Medawar over the phone. "Run facial recognition on him. You did? You got nothing. Crap." Ryan tossed the phone onto the counter top and shared his grim expression with his two top men. "Mack's right, she can hold… but not for long," Ryan said in a tone that told the men he felt more concern for her welfare than anyone did. "Get in the air. I'll update you as I can while you're in route."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Boysclub 8

"Don't tell me that army training of yours didn't prepare you any better than that," the voice whispered gruffly in her ear as he ripped the blindfold from her face.

Bridget blinked several times as the light flooded her eyes, practically blinding her. She felt sluggish and tired and took a deep breath trying to clear her mind. She struggled to turn her head to the voice, but the man strategically stayed out of her peripheral vision. Bridget scanned the room and was relieved to discover she was in her own apartment. The discerning thing was the time of day. _It's dark outside, so I've been out a while… he must have drugged me. And he's here, so he had passed in front of a camera and if I can get loose, I can get to my weapons cache, if the TOC is monitoring... _The deluge of ideas ran rampant in her head and the gag came off her mouth.

"Nothing to say to defend yourself army?" the male asked from behind the chair.

Bridget narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. Something about his voice seemed distantly familiar, but there could be a thousand different reasons for that. _A contact, an asset, a random encounter on the street, so many voices all jumbled together, _she contemplated as her mind raced to place him. She wondered what time it was and wished she had hung that clock Beau had given her as a house-warming gift. _It's dark. I went to the market at ten, headed back about eleven. Sunset is about eight, so if I was able to activate the panic button and if the TOC put a team in the air, I will need to hold at least eight more hours until they get here, _she thought quickly. The weapons locker was just a few feet away. The combination was a mix of numbers that summed her father and brother's birthday. _My brother's birthday…his voice, _Bridget mind clicked as the wheels starting running in reverse to connect the voice to the person in her head.

"So, what?" the male asked her as he tapped the back of her chair. "You aren't talking to me or something?"

"I don't have a lot to say," she muttered under her breath, baiting him into further conversation to confirm what she already suspected.

"That's all the army taught you? I don't have a lot to say?"

"Okay, let me clarify …I don't have a lot to say to big brothers that insist on bullying their little sisters," she said sarcastically. Bridget turned her head slightly and a half smile crawled across her face. "I see some things haven't changed."

"Awe, busted," the man grunted. "You haven't forgotten me after all huh, sis." Adam Sullivan, Bridget's older brother stepped around the chair and leaned against the back of her couch. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"What else is there for me to think? You show up unannounced half way around the world, jump me in my entryway, knock me out for half the day and you have yet to untie me," she growled at him. Bridget pulled gently on her bindings to see how much give she had. She glanced to the right and noticed her weapons locker standing open. "I have a very distinct memory of you doing something similar as kids, which leads me to believe that it has become your forte."

"Right," he said pushing off the back of the couch and pacing around the room. "Well, if you're talking about my ability to crack the code on your secret things… than yeah, I'm guilty," he replied holding up his hands. "You should know better than using dad's and my birthdates as your combination. But, hey, I'm flattered that you still think of me like that."

"Well don't, I don't think of you at all. The number means something else," she replied flatly, setting the countdown in her head.

"Pffht! Right Bridget Marie, who are you trying to kid? You've been using that number sequence since daddy bought you that locking diary! Apparently that army of yours forgot to train you to dump the nostalgia and go for the stealth."

Bridget watched her older brother warily. The similarities between them stopped at their physical appearance. Adam was tall like a basketball player, sandy blonde hair like hers. Growing up, Adam was the quiet, nice boy next door. He was that kid that shoveled sidewalks in the winter, cut grass in the summer and was nice to old ladies any day of the week. His dirty little secret? Adam was _never_ nice to his sisters. He tormented Bridget and Emily daily. Teased them relentlessly, tortured their pets, tied them up when their parents weren't home, in fact, Adam's profile was no different than some serial killers.

Bridget practically celebrated the day he got on the bus for boot camp. His career in the Navy fit his bully personality perfectly. He was that guy that every recruit grew to loathe at boot camp and then later when he made the switch to Naval Intelligence and was working covertly with CIA, Bridget thought he would fit right in with those sadistic bastards. Now here he was in front of her acting no different than in his youth. _I'm not going to be a victim this time, _Bridget resolved as she pushed away those childhood memories.

"What time is it anyway?" she asked him quizzically.

"It's dark time," he replied flippantly. Adam milled around the room aimlessly. "This place is nice. Furnishings are a little sparse, but ah…," he paused and made a face. "Quaint."

"Mocking Mom now?" Bridget remarked coolly.

"Aunt Sally!" Adam bellowed loudly across the room. "Barn red and country blue! Pigs and chickens! Bridget … why the hell do country folk want their home decorated with pigs and chickens?"

"I don't know," she replied watching him rant and rave around her living room. He seemed agitated. His moods fluctuated quickly and he was sweating a lot. _He's lost it, _she thought watching his over-exaggerated movements. "Are you high?" she asked.

"High? High on what? Get high on life?" Adam barked waving his arms around wildly. "That sounds like something Sister Del Louise would say doesn't it Bridget Marie?" he smirked in a sing songy voice. "Let me ask something Bridget Marie!" Adam ran across the room, grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. The movement tipped the chair on its legs and left Bridget dangling at his mercy. He leaned in until their noses were nearly touching. "When you got called to Sister Del Louise's office for your weekly paddling … did make you pull your panties down? Did she touch you in your sensitive place? Did she laugh and moan while you cried?"

Bridget winced as his rotten breathe hit her right in the face. The sinister tone in his words rattled Bridget internally, but she wasn't going to let him see it. _It's just a SERE school tactic, _she reminded herself as she kept her face as emotionless as possible. "Get the frick away from me," she said slowly and plainly. "You need a breath mint."

-0-

"Roger that, Dirt Diver out."

Bob turned around in the aisle and braced his hands on the cargo netting that hung from the ceiling of the plane. This whole situation with Bridget was making him sick. It started when Kayla Medawar had informed them that JAG had shown up with a warrant, then the news that the colonel had sent her into hiding, and now that she was attacked in her own apartment. Mack was right, someone had made her … whether it was a terrorist group, ARMY CID or a street thug, he wasn't sure, but anyway it added up he and Mack were still eight hours from fixing it.

He watched Mack drop the sat phone on the bench. "What's the word?" he asked. By the dull expression on Mack's face, he knew full well he didn't want the answer.

"Gamma's been delayed. Equipment malfunction," Mack replied looking straight ahead.

"Bravo?"

"Behind us."

Bob looked at his watch and stared at the digital display. "Eight hours until we land."

"I know."

Bob sighed heavily and held back on what he really wanted to say. He wanted to believe that Bridget would be okay on her own. That she could endure whatever torture her attacker was dishing, that she would not break or give in to any demand, that's what he wanted to believe. He wanted to believe the SERE school lessons were the same for every member of the team, be it a man or a woman, but in his gut he knew it was different.

_Cowards intimidate. Cowards abuse, cowards use sex as a power tactic, _he told himself silently. _Bridget is strong. _Bob felt the muscles in his jaw flex from the stress of waiting, not knowing. _If it meant her life, would she fight to the death or give in?_ Bob wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. As sick as it sounded, push come to shove, Bridget would be better to yield than to fight. _We can fix it if she's alive, if she's dead, it's all over, _he muttered silently. He walked slowly up the aisle and slumped down on the bench across from Mack. Bob closed his eyes and tried to relax.

"She kicked my ass in a training session a few months ago," Mack said after a moment breaking the silence in the plane.

"Because you let her," Bob replied, not opening his eyes.

"I did at first," Mack said quietly. "But then she told me to stop handling her with kid gloves so I let her have it. She split open my lip and laid me out on the floor."

Bob opened one eye to look at Gerhardt. "She split your lip?"

"Yeah, and Tiffy was pissed," Mack replied leaning forward in his seat.

"Why? Cause you came home injured again?"

"No, I told her that Bridge did it and whew! The claws came out." Mack chuckled and looked up at Bob. "Bridge isn't liked too much around our women."

"Huh, that's an understatement," Bob grunted. "She just met them at a stressful time in their lives. Now that's she's in hiding she understands it." He curled down on his side and rolled on his back on the bench. "They would probably get along fine now," Bob said reflectively.

"Hmm mmm," Mack groaned as he sat back in his seat. "How do you think our wives would feel if they knew we both swapped spit with her?"

Bob stared at the ceiling of the plane as the words evoked the memory of the kiss that night in the Kosovo club. The heat her body was generated drove his temperature up a few notches. The kiss and the tongue dance they played was alluring and inviting. In another time and place, Bob may have taken to another level, yet all he had left was a fantasy.

"You know what I have to say about that?" Bob said finally. "Thank god for mission sanctity."

-1-

"You got anything to eat?" Adam asked his sister after hours of not speaking to her. Adam pushed the chair back from her desk and stood up. He slowly walked to the small refrigerator at the side of the room and stretched. "My neck hurts, my eyes hurt, my wrist hurts … who would have thought working on the computer would become an occupational hazard?" He leaned over and opened the refrigerator door. "Hey! Want some grapes?"

_An occupational hazard because my computer is bugged jerk! Didn't your Navy teach you any better than that? _Bridget resisted the urge to yell it aloud as the flashing blue light from the webcam confirmed the TOC was watching. A wave of relief washed over her and for the first time in hours she felt like she had the upper hand. _And I'm thirsty, _she reflected watching Adam pull a bottle of water from the fridge and chug it down.

"You're going to be nice to me now?" she asked coolly. As much as Bridget wanted to tell him to stick it up his ass, her training told her she needed to take whatever sustenance he was offering. The drugs he had injected her with earlier were still in her system making her sick. She felt hot and nauseous and needed to figure out a way to flush quickly.

"Yeah, it's the least I can do since you're letting me crash at your place," Adam said, talking with his mouth full. He walked toward her popping the grapes in one by one.

"Letting you?" Bridget coughed. "Since when am I letting you?"

"It had to be this way Bridge…come on," Adam said holding a grape on her lip and then pushing it into her mouth. "If I would have just shown up and rang the bell, would you have honestly let me in?"

"I guess we'll never know," Bridget replied as the icy grape exploded in her mouth. The moisture felt great against her tongue. She took the next one from him readily and then he fed her three more. His hand brushed the side of her face and he tilted his head to the side perplexed.

"You're warm," he said resting the back of his palm on her forehead. "Are you hot? Do you want some water?" Adam didn't give her time to answer as he skated across the floor to the fridge and grabbed a bottled water. He walked back to her side, twisting the cap off. "Here," he said resting the bottle to her lips. He cupped his hand under her chin as the cool liquid slide down her throat.

Bridget drank it sloppily, but not by choice. Adam's hands were shaking and a wave of water hit her lips before she was ready, flooding her mouth and dribbling down her chin. She wasn't going to complain because knowing him, it would be the last water she would get before the firing squad showed up.

When the bottle was half-empty he pulled it back from her lips and put the cap back on. "You know, Mom and Dad are really worried about you," Adam remarked stepping backward to lean on the couch.

"Let me guess, Dad asked for you to go looking for me?" Bridget replied tried trying to be conversational.

"Ha, right. I think you and I both know that if Dad really wanted to find you, I'd be the last person he would ask," Adam chuckled stalking around the room. "Although I'm sure he'd never think about looking for you in Manila."

"Why did you then?"

"What makes you think I was looking for you?"

_I hate that question with a question bullshit, _Bridget thought pulling at the bindings again. The water had perked her up and aroused her interest in getting loose. "If you weren't looking for me then why are you standing in my living room?"

"I found you accidentally," Adam conceded leaning on the back of the couch again.

"Huh?" Bridget grunted completely confused. "You accidentally found me in Manila?"

"Yeah, I've been in the city for two weeks, working a stolen weapons op for the Navy. A couple of days ago I was meeting my contact by the market and imagine my surprise when I saw my little sister jog by!" He bounced the water bottle off his hand casually.

"Hmmph," Bridget grunted in disbelief. "So then why couldn't you have just shown up to ring the bell?"

"Well, that's complicated," Adam answered. He twisted the cap off the water bottle and walked toward her to let her drink again.

"I got time," Bridget prompted him just before he spilled some more water in her mouth. She watched him pull the bottle back and slap the cap back on it. He paced around the couch and ran his fingers through his short hair, lacing them behind his head. "Hey Adam, could I ask a favor?" She watched him turn to look at her suspiciously and she made a plea to the compassionate side that was showing through at this moment. "I have to pee. Help a sister out?"

It surprised her that he went for it, hook, line and sinker … with the exception of untying her hands. That required an additional five minute conversation during which Bridget honestly thought she was going to pee her pants. Adam finally relented and released the bindings to her wrist … only to exchange it with a gun to her head. As soon as she was done, it was right back to the chair and back to the bindings.

_So much for brotherly love. _

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Boys club 9

Another three hours went by before Bridget finally got her brother to admit that he wasn't in Manila on any Naval Intelligence operation. Getting the confession out of him was a little easier that she had expected. As the sun began to rise, Adam's moods became more melancholy. He was fatigued and it was starting to show in his responses. Bridget relied on her training and expertly reeled him in like a skirt appealing to the bar room drunk.

"That army of yours has you hid pretty good," he spouted off after a good twenty minutes of beating around the bush.

Bridget listened to his words trying to read between the lines for any hidden meaning. _That army of mine? Is that code for the unit? _"What makes you think I'm hiding?"

"You think I was born yesterday?" He guffawed holding his arms straight out from his sides. "I know how to find someone when they are hiding! And your big escape from the country wasn't that difficult to track. Come on! You couldn't be more creative than riding on an army plane off the manifest!"

"Just because I traveled off the manifest doesn't mean that I'm in hiding," Bridget argued with him. "It's no different that riding in the jump seat on American Airlines."

"Yeah … but your name isn't Emily Sullivan, Bridget Marie. And you don't work for American Airlines sis," Adam said waving his finger in her face. "Don't lie to me! Don't try to say the three hundred and third logistical studies unit didn't send you into hiding!"

"Why would they do that Adam?" Bridget replied loudly. "I'm still working for them. You've been on my computer. I'm sure you snooped through my files!" Bridget screamed at him trying to pry more information from him on the sly. It was also a cover of sorts for her while she pulled at the bindings to work her way free.

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps that little warrant with your name on it might have something to do with it," he said shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bridget replied. _So that's what this is about. _She held an unreadable expression on her face and employed every biofeedback exercise the team had put her through the past few months.

"I gotta say Bridge … that was one ballsy move. Ordering a chopper over the Syrian border to pick up a special forces team?" Adam commented crossing his arms at his chest. "Where were you when I was with the SEALS?"

"You were with the SEALS?" she practically laughed in his face. "I thought you were the big man at _recruit division command_? Or better yet, a SERE school instructor? Or was that all a lie to impress?" she commented tersely. "Where was I when you were out playing games? I was in college forgetting that we were related. Thanks for coming to my graduation by the way."

"I was under cover," he replied flatly.

"For who? Your buddies at the CIA?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Adam said a little too confidently.

A lightbulb clicked on in the back of her head. "Is that who sent you? You sold out your own damn sister to the CIA?" She stared at him with an incredulous expression on her face. "What did you do to deserve that assignment? Burn someone?"

"Like you would understand?" Adam roared at her. "Oh, wait, you probably do understand don't you, lil sis? How many people did you burn when you were assigned to D-O-D! Adam answered her slowly, annunciating every letter in the acronym. "I know you understand what that is, don't you Warrant Officer?"

"Oh, it's like that now?" she questioned him, re-using the line every unit team lead had used on her over the past nine months. "If you're going to get all ranky with me, then may I remind you, it doesn't matter what branch of the military I'm in, I outrank you chief." With one final tug, the bindings broke loose and she carefully planned her next move.

"And your point?" Adam chuckled sadistically. "Need I remind you that you're the one tied to the chair?"

"Was tied to the chair," Bridget said launching herself at him.

-0-

"He turned on the laptop about six hours ago and we've been tracking him on the webcam."

"What's he been doing?" Mack practically yelled in the phone as Bob weaved the car through traffic on the crowded Manila streets. Sergeant Kayla Medawar in the TOC supplied the two alpha team members the play-by-play of Red Cap's apartment until they arrived over the speaker on Mack's blackberry.

"He checked a hotmail account and read the online version of the New York Times. We got a pretty good shot of his face, but nothing comes up on facial recognition," Kayla reported.

"Can you see Red Cap at all?" Bob questioned sliding the car sideways down the street.

"She's sitting in a chair about three feet inside the door. Her hands are tied behind her back. He fed her some grapes and water. Let her up to use the wash room and then things started to go downhill,"

"What do you mean downhill?" Bob questioned.

"Red Cap was engaging him in conversation when … ah…." Kayla's voice trailed off and silence filled the line.

"And what?" The words from both operators echoed in the car.

"Uh oh, shit!" Kayla yelped into the phone.

"Kayla!" Mack screamed through the speaker. "What's happening?"

"Red Cap just broke free and tackled him."

"Shit!" Mack cursed sharing a look with Bob. "Get on the fricken gas!"

"Bravo team just touched down and will be at the apartment in ten minutes."

"We don't have ten minutes!" Mack shouted.

"Move it!" Bob yelled laying on the horn as he made the final turn down her street. Bob slammed the car in park, right in front of the door and the two operators bailed out, fully loaded with defensive weaponry. The machine guns were probably overkill, but they brought them all the same. Bob stayed on point, while Mack picked the lock on the door and then the two advanced up the stairs. Taking defensive positions on either side of the sliding door, Mack and Bob barely hesitated to assess the situation before they went barreling in. Breaking glass and tumbling furniture were all the sounds they needed to here.

"On three?"

"Shoot first, ask questions later," Bob said pulling open the door.

-2-

Bridget had him. She had her brother pinned down in a position that he couldn't get out of more than once, she just wasn't strong enough to hold him. _Why am I not strong enough? _she questioned as she wrestled with him on the floor. _Because my arms won't move, _she screamed in her head as she tried to keep a hold on him. For all the defensive moves that Bob, Mack and Beau had taught her, Bridget was still fighting like a girl. _Of course, in every one of those scenarios, my opponent just gave in … he's not giving in, _she commented mentally as she tore at his face with her nails. She got in a couple of good licks though and broke a couple of his fingers.

"When are you going to give up?" Adam gasped as he rolled her over and pinned his sister on the floor with a knee to her thigh and a hand at her throat. "You're not strong enough to beat me woman! You're at a tactical disadvantage because you're female."

"That's what you think," Bridget growled as she kneed him in the groin. As he yelped in pain, she pushed his body off hers. "That's one of my advantages Adam," she yelled as she crawled to her feet.

"Just one?" he said scrambling up opposite of her and grabbed her roughly by the hair. He shoved her hard against the wall. "What's the other one?"

"I'm betting you won't really hurt me," Bridget remarked through gritted, her voice cracking as she spoke from all the yelling she had been doing the past few minutes. "You've never been able to really to go through with it. All that those times you threatened when we were kids, you never pulled it off"

"That's because Dad came home," he laughed right in her face. He moved his hand to her neck again and attempted to choke her.

Bridget struggled against him, remembering the lessons the boys had taught her in the gym. She could feel herself starting to fade and waged a silent battle with her resolve and her will in her head. _I'm not going to die like this, _she told herself, as she tried to knock him away again. "Big brothers are supposed to protect their sisters," she reminded him tersely.

"Oh … that's your strategy?" Adam laughed in her face. He let off the pressure and pulled a knife from his pocket. He traced it along the side of her face, slicing a thin line of skin through her eyebrow. "Guess again blondie. You don't know me very well," he said tugging her head back a little harder. "You choose, either surrender peacefully or keep this up to the death! Which is going to be quick … cuz you fight like a girl." He slid the knife to her throat and put a little more pressure on the blade. "You couldn't kill me if you tried. You love me too damn much. I, on the other hand, have no qualms about delivering your dead head to the CIA on a platter!"

"So much for saving the family bloodline," Bridget grunted as she struggled in his grasp. His breath was rank and she grimaced as it hit her right in the face.

"Ah, you know me," he laughed. "When have I been the nostalgic white picket fence guy?"

Whether Adam would have killed her or not, Bridget was never to know. The knife dug into the skin at her neck enough to draw blood, but a sound at the side of the room drew his attention just long enough for Bridget get an arm up to block him. _God, please tell me that's who I think it is, _she thought as she continued to resist. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the door sliding open and the two best things she had seen in months come charging through with some monster sized guns.

As Adam heard the rumble at the door, he swung around to face the men, putting Bridget between them like a shield. He slid his arm around Bridget's neck in a sleeper hold. The knife was dangerously close to her jugular and from her perspective could end it all for with one quick flick.

"Drop it!" Bob ordered, leveling the barrel of his weapon right at the man's head.

"I'll kill her," Adam yelled shoving the point of the knife into her skin.

"Go ahead, we don't like her too much anyway," Mack replied facetiously. "But you're holding a knife against two machine guns a-hole. Either way you lose."

"Ha," Adam chuckled viciously. "And they look like army issued … are these your playmates lil sis?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Bridget squeaked. The hold Adam had on her neck was too tight and for just too long. Bridget felt herself slipping and looked to Bob for some relief. The look in his eye told her that he saw it too, but it said something else that she noticed quickly. _Fall forward, _she repeated in her head as she began to white on. _Then my real brothers are going to kick the shit out of you. _

-3-

When Bridget opened her eyes later, a searing burn plagued her head and chest. She turned her head and felt the soft plastic tubing of field IV taped to her arm. A fuzzy Bob Brown was kneeling at her side holding an oxygen mask on her face. "What happened?" she gasped pushing the mask away.

"Easy," he said deflecting her hand and pressing the mask against her face a little longer. "You held, that's what happened," Bob answered.

"Then why does …" her voice trailed off as she realized there were more men in the apartment than she remembered coming through the door. "Who?" she gasped nervously trying to place the silhouettes.

"Hey, hey…relax, it's Beau and Square. They touched down ten minutes after us," Bob explained. He flicked the flashlight in her eye to check for responsiveness.

"She coming around?" Beau asked standing over Bob's shoulder.

"Yeah, she's good," Bob answered putting a gauze pad against her head.

"Speak for yourself," Bridget mumbled. She pulled back from Bob's pressure. "I'm bleeding."

"He sliced up your forehead and your neck a bit. I'll fix it in a second. You okay?" he asked to confirm what he already believed.

"Ugh, stop asking me that," Bridget mumbled pushing his hand away from her face. She pushed up into a sitting position and leaned against the wall.

"I've only asked you once," Bob replied with a chuckle.

"You've asked me once _too_ many times," Bridget grumbled. "Just once I'd like to be able to render aide to you … whoa." She felt dizzy and put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

"Easy," Bob commenting putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Here," Beau said squatting next to her to put a cold bottle of water on the back of her neck. "That outta help cool you down." He stuffed the IV bag behind her head like a pillow.

"My chest is on fire," she muttered rubbing her hand across her breast bone. She caught Bob and Beau glancing at each other over the top of her head. "Which one of you this time?"

"Which one of us what?" Beau shrugged his shoulders innocently.

"Which one of you had to give me CPR?" Bridget rested her head against the wall. Every inhale was an effort as the burning blocked her from taking a bigger breath. She watched Beau pick up the oxygen mask and press it to her face while Bob prepared the cut for the stitches.

"Master Sergeant Dauper and Square had the honors this time," Bob informed her as he tilted her head back in order to apply the liquid stitches.

"I didn't have a choice Bridge," Beau commented. "Your brain forgot to tell your body to breathe when you passed out. Mack and Bob were busy taking out the bad guy."

"Is he dead?" Bridget asked. She hissed through her lips as the super glue product burned the heck out of her cut. She instinctively braced her hand against Beau's arm.

"No," Mack answered walking toward her from the other side of the room. "I reserve the right to finish it later, with your approval of course. He called you sis …Is he?"

"My brother? Yes ….. Ow! Bob," Bridget growled when the pain got a little too much. She felt tears stinging her eyes and pulled her head away from his hand. "Geezus."

"Sorry," he said holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm almost done."

"Just talk to me and don't worry about him," Mack said standing in front of her.

"Man up soldier or it's going to leave an ugly scar," Beau added.

Bridget glanced over at Adam lying prone on the floor. She felt absolutely no remorse for him. "He would have killed me," she muttered glancing back at Mack. She paused a moment, sucking in air when the stinging got a little intense.

"Bridge," Mack called to grab her attention.

"He's with Naval Intelligence. He told me he burned someone and to get out of it, the CIA sent him here to arrest me."

"That's a new twist on the family reunion," Square remarked from the side of the room.

"Really," Mack agreed. "How the hell did he find you?"

"I don't know, but he knew all about my flight from Fort Griffith," Bridget remarked jumping as Bob's hand brushed the side of her face.

"I'm done," he said putting the liquid stitches back into the med kit. "Let's get you up," he grunted slipping his arm around her waist.

Bridget took a deep breath as the guys from her team lifted her off the floor into a standing position. She felt woozy as they led her to the couch. She sunk into the cushions and felt the tears streaming down her face before she could do anything to stop them. And for this moment, she didn't even care what they saw or thought about her _femaleness_. _This girl had played tough long enough today. _

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Boysclub 10

Steam and heat escaped the oversized bathroom from the door that was slightly ajar. The buzz from the hairdryer drowned out most the sound, yet she was on alert. She had been edgy since her own brother broke the sanctuary that had shielded her for months. It gave her comfort to know those she truly considered family came for her without hesitation, motivated solely on duty and the creed to leave no one behind.

Her real brother … the man that shared the same bloodline as hers, was motivated only by a dirty paycheck. Washed out on undercover mission, he made a choice to bring her in on the CIA's trumped up warrant as a reprieve from the filthy hole he had buried himself in. As much as Adam had disgusted her in their youth, he turned her stomach even more today.

"Knock, knock."

Bridget stopped the stroke of her hairbrush in mid air and shut off the dryer. She tightened the tie on the robe. "Jonas?" she said pulling the door open. The sight of the Sergeant Major brought tears to her eyes and she resisted the urge to jump into his arms. Jonas didn't hold back.

"How'ya holding up?" he asked when he released her from the bear hug.

"I'm good," Bridget replied, nodding unconvincingly. She swallowed hard, forcing down a lump in her throat and forcing away the urge to tell him how desperately bad she wanted to go home.

"Are you now?" Jonas said pacing across the room the bureau. "This is me you're talking too." Jonas gave her one of those fatherly looks of his that could melt ice.

Bridget walked to the bed and slumped down on the mattress. She knew better than to try to lie to him. Jonas knew his team too well. His extra sense could read a person like no other and see things that were thought to be well hidden. "I'm holding," she said strategically.

"Your eyes give you away," Jonas said pulling a jewelry box from his pocket. "I see fatigue." He tapped the box on the palm of his hand.

"I'm tired of …I miss my life," Bridget finally conceded. She felt wetness on her cheeks and wiped away the tears with the robe sleeve. _Damn him for getting to me, _she swore under her breath.

"Now you're starting to sound like my wife," he chuckled walking over to the bed. He handed her a tissue and the jewelry box. "Thanks to your brother, this should all be over soon."

Bridget fingered the box and wiped away the tears with the tissue. "Adam finally spilled his guts?" she mumbled.

"Yeah. He was very helpful to us," Jonas remarked.

"What did you do with him?"

"Not what I would have like too," Jonas said. He held her gaze with his dark eyes that danced with a hint of a smile. "He was released back to his command…,"

"With no consequences?" Bridget balked angrily interrupting him.

"Didn't I teach you patience?" He questioned holding up his hand. "I released him back to his command, straight into the hands of the infamous Master Chief Sullivan."

Bridget's expression morphed from confusion to a satisfied grin. "Right into the hands of my dad," she confirmed. "Does he…?"

"Yes, Bridget. Your father was briefed," Jonas said reassuringly. "Although your next family reunion might be a little …awkward, if your father doesn't kill him."

Bridget felt a weight lift off her shoulders and she waved her hand to fan her face. "Ugh, he never shows up anyway."

"Are you clear on the plan?" Jonas asked, just as Mack leaned into the room.

"Kern's here," Mack announced.

"Yes," Bridget said standing up from the bed. In her usual role as eye candy, Red Cap was to wear the necklace rigged with a spycam. Get the box number from the vault and run interference and back up for Cool Breeze.

"Okay, off you go then," Jonas said as he headed toward Mack at the door. "Oh, I almost forgot," he mumbled pulling a digital photo out of his pocket. "You know my policy on lucky charms, but Kayla insisted I give this to you." He stepped back to hand her the picture.

Bridget glanced at the photo and started to laugh. "It's my cat," she said tracing her finger over the image on the paper.

"He looks friendly, but he bites," Jonas remarked as he walked into the main hotel room.

-0-

Bridget watched the video feed of Bob being rough housed by the general's guards and clenched her hands in frustration.

"We just let this happen?" she protested. Having lived through the mess with her brother, the raw feeling of concern was just bubbling under the surface. Bridget wasn't too keen on the plan when they laid it out to her earlier, but hearing her team talk it through and actually seeing it were completely different. Bridget was sure the emotions she felt were no different to Mack and Bob's the day her brother jumped her in the entryway of the building and carted her out of the camera view. .

"He can hold out," Jonas replied.

"And if not?" Bridget retorted angrily. Her response won her a sharp glance from Jonas, but it did little to comfort her.

Twenty minutes later, Bridget held her breath as the hidden camera captured the guards hitting Bob repeatedly with a stun gun blast. She could see the anguish on his face as he endured shock after shock. She wondered how he put up with it all and admired his strength. _This is not right, _she thought clenching her hands into fists. There was some comfort in knowing that she could see what was happening to him. _Like when I activated the panic button and the TOC zeroed in. _A moment later that comfort was shattered when the guards picked up Bob's chair and carried him into the next room.

"No!" she practically screamed at the monitor. She was helpless to a damn thing about it at this point in the show. She paced across the room in frustration and then marched back to Agent Kern. "I don't like this. We can't see what they are doing to him."

"He said he can hold long enough to put the plan into motion," Kern said nonchalantly. "Pull him out now and you blow the mission…. which means you don't get your pardon."

"Oh, this is about me?" Bridget replied, completely ticked off at his smugness. _Another example of why my brother fit in so well with them, _she thought as she held her tongue on what she really wanted to tell him.

"Call, raise, or fold," Kern commented playing with the deck of cards in his hands.

Bridget bit her lip as she resisted the urge to deck him. _Don't use all your energy at once, _she reminded herself as she took a deep breath. "The general wouldn't have given the order to kill him, not until he gives up his marker," she reasoned with herself. It helped to talk it through, even though she still felt like she was going to barf. "We hold," Bridget said reluctantly.

"Then I believe you have work to do," Kern instructed her.

-1-

She waited anxiously outside the door, timing the number of steps to cross the room to answer it. _Please Bob, be okay, _she thought as the startled soldier stood in front of her.

"General Lau invited me to wait for him," Bridget said loudly to signal Bob that she was in. The guard argued with her in Cantonese. "Oh, do you want to interrupt his card game to ask him?" Red Cap countered very tactfully. She walked in and backed the guard up into the room. "You're Lieutenant Chen yeah? He told me to ask for you," Bridget rattled on in his face. The guy never said a word, even when she slandered over to the chair and sat down. Bridget's arrival at the suite was Bob's queue to reveal his accomplice to the guards. She looked up at the Lieutenant innocently, crossed her legs showing the appropriate amount of skin, and waited. It didn't take long to get them to the next step.

The guards never knew what hit them as Bridget emptied her gun effortlessly into their heads. She watched Bob stumbled across the room to the case of the bureau and knew exactly what they had done to him. She could barely could hold back the tears when she saw the state he was in.

"Hold it!" she yelled at the drug dealer. Her gun was empty and he wasn't armed. Cool Breeze stood behind her with a gun from one of the guards. "Don't move."

Bridget glanced over her shoulder and caught Bob lifting the drugs from the case. "I'm so sorry," she said shaking her head. "You did this for me."

"You want to make it up to me?" Bob gasped as he shoved the drugs in his pocket. "You didn't see anything," he said stumbling forward to address his interrogator. "Nothing."

Bridget watched as Bob killed the man in cold blood, but true to her word, she didn't see any of it. She owed her life to Bob Brown and she wasn't about to betray him now. If she had another bullet, she would have shot him herself.

-2-

Bridget knocked on the door of the men's latrine at the Macau airport and stuck her head in the door. "Bob?" she called looking under all the stalls.

"Yeah," he grumbled stepping out of one.

"I brought you a water," she said handing him the bottle.

"Thanks," he barely muttered walking to the sink to wash his hands.

She watched him wordlessly. He was not the Bob Brown that she knew and loved. He was jittery and agitated and honestly, looked like crap. "And some clean clothes," she remarked pulling jeans, drawers, socks and a shirt out of her knapsack.

"I'm okay," he growled leaning over the sink. "Just leave it alone."

"If you want me to believe that you're going to have to say it with a little more enthusiasm," she replied sharply. "You stink like all hell. Your shirt and pants are stained with puke and geezus! You can't even stand still. So for all the times you've yelled at me to soldier up … get your butt out of those clothes before Jonas busts your ass."

She watched his reflection in the mirror as he stared her down. _Ballsy move Sullivan, _she mused keeping her emotions in check for once. _He is not walking out of this room dressed like that, _she resolved firmly ready to stand her ground. _Even if that means I have to attack him and dress him myself. _

"Is that an order ma'm?" Bob asked slowly turning around.

"If it needs to be, then yes," she replied holding out the clothes for him.

If looks could kill, Bridget would have been dead, but she held firm as he shuffled toward her and took the boxers and jeans out of her hand. He turned and walked into the stall without another word to her. _He's pissed but I don't care, _she mulled over in her head. A pounding on the door froze her in position.

"Sullivan! Are you in there?" Mack's muffled voice blasted through the metal door.

Bridget dropped her bag on the sink, pulled her t-shirt over her head and wriggled out of her bra straps. She walked to the door, covering her front with the shirt and opened it just a few inches. "Just give me a second," she said through the crack.

"You do know this is the men's room?" Mack questioned her as he pointed to the sign on the door.

"Yeah, I can read Gerhardt," Bridget retorted opening the door a little more so he could see her bare shoulders. "The women's room stinks."

"Wheels up in twelve minutes whether you're ready or not," he said gruffly.

"Oh, like you would leave me here?" she replied with a half smile.

"Ask my wife, I've left her before," Mack replied flatly.

"Really? Wow, you're a winner!" Bridget remarked catching a glimpse of Bob's reflection in the mirror. "Must be that redneck charm of yours."

"Born and bred!" Mack chuckled. ""Have you seen Cool Breeze lately?" Mack asked her looking at his watch.

"Nope, it's not my day to watch him. Now leave so I can get it together," Bridget said closing the door. She turned around just in time to see Bob pull the t-shirt over his head.

"Thank you," he muttered leaning over the sink to splash some cold water on his face. "You got any gum?"

"Gum, deodorant, Advil, matches, good smelly stuff," Bridget replied putting herself back together. She dug into her bag and handed him a container of Secret deodorant and a piece of peppermint gum. She watched Bob eye the Secret suspiciously. "Just use it; it's strong enough for a man."

"But smells girly," he replied as he slowly took the cap off.

"You better move faster than that soldier," Bridget prodded him into motion. "Socks," she said holding the pair up.

"I don't need'em," he said messing with the Secret.

"Shut up and take your shoes off," Bridget replied getting really ticked off at him. She was amazed that he actually did it without arguing further.

"You know, all the times I've come to your aide, I never yelled at you," Bob said pulling his nasty sweaty sock off.

"That's a fricken lie!" Bridget said stepping next to him so he could lean against her while changing his socks. "You yelled at me after the earthquake."

"Because you were scared and being stubborn," Bob gasped.

"Well, you're high and being stupid," Bridget commented. She threw his clothes in the garbage can and dumped the lighter fluid from her Zippo on them. "You ready?"

Bob ran his hands down the front of his jeans, feeling for his credentials. "Yeah," he muttered picking up the water bottle. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said holding the door open. She handed the matches to Bob and watched as he lit one and tossed it in the can.

"Let's go home soldier."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Boysclub 11

It took two months for Bridget's official pardon to be recorded on the books, which meant two additional months of hiding in plain sight in Manila. This time, being away from her life was a lot easier because more of her life came to her. The time flew by as Zeta team moved in and her skills were called into action by both Bravo and Alpha. And then the bickering began. Or better stated, the bickering returned. The battle over Red Cap's official assignment heated up quick as the bragging rights ignited in the cave. And Bridget, the girl loved every minute of it.

Despite everything, her real allegiance was to Alpha team. So when Mack reported that during his near death experience he had a vision of Hector's killer, Bridget made it her mission to find the guy. Ironically, a week after she moved back to Fort Griffith, Zeta located the suspect right in her former back yard. Her trip back to Manila was an odd homecoming of sorts.

Bridget arrived at the warehouse two days early and followed up on Zeta's leads. When friendly faces walked through the door, she had her ammo lined up and ready.

"Welcome to the Philippines boys," Bridget greeted Carlito, Mack and the new guy.

"Staff Sergeant McBride meet Warrant Officer Sullivan," Carlito said dumping his bag on the chair. Bridget smiled graciously as the new guy walked up to shake her hand.

"I didn't know there were women in the unit," McBride remarked squeezing her hard firmly.

"There aren't," Mack replied with a protective edge to his voice.

"She's more of a mascot," Grey added trying to downplay her existence on the team.

"Yeah," Bridget concurred catching the cautious expression on Carlito's face. "They just take me to games, take me out at half time."

"I'm sure they do," McBride said with an edgy suspicious grin.

_What was that response? _Bridget questioned silently glancing in Mack's direction. The look on his face told her he agreed but without skipping a beat he asked for a sit rep from her.

After briefing the team on Zeta's findings from the past week, Carlito and McBride set out to do some surveillance. Bob worked on a mission report and Mack kicked back on one of the cots.

"I love what you've done with the place," Mack commented as he looked around the room. This wasn't the same warehouse where she had been attacked. After Gamma team took custody of Bridget's brother, Bob, Mack, Beau and Square saw to it that she was moved to a new location and installed the appropriate security devices for her.

"It's good enough for this girl," Bridget replied looking up from her computer.

"How's that state of the art shower I hooked up?" Bob asked her. He arched his brow and started to laugh.

"If that's the extent of your handy man abilities, then that's a cause for comment," Bridget laughed. "I souped it up a bit before Zeta got down here."

Mack stood up from the cot and walked to the corner of the room that hid the makeshift shower. The thing consisted of some jury-rigged PVC pipe with a bunch of holes punched into it and a sorry excuse for a shower curtain. The only thing the stall had going for it was a floor drain and the existing hot and cold water lines. "What's wrong with this?" he said turning the apparatus on. "I saw some people down the street that would kill for this thing. If Zeta team doesn't like it, then they should upgrade."

"This girl didn't have a problem with it," Bridget repeated tapping away on her laptop.

"Bridge, you're doing it again," Bob said stopping what he was doing to look at her.

"Doing what?" she asked glancing up at him.

"Talking about yourself in the third person," Mack stated heading back across the room. He pulled a chair out from the table and turned it around before he straddled it to sit.

"I'm not," she argued shaking her head.

"You are," Mack and Bob said in unison.

"We've been here four hours and you've done it no less than twenty times," Bob informed her.

"Beau said you drove him nuts with it on Bravo's last mission," Mack added.

Bridget twisted her lips and sat back in her chair. They knew her games too well, the off the cuff comments that fell out of her mouth when she was nervous were a dead giveaway. "It's nothing, its' my nervous twitch."

"What are you nervous about?" Mack asked tilting his chair forward.

"Nothing ... it's nothing," she stammered trying to come up with a reason for it. The thing was she didn't have a reason. She could blame it on being on her own too long or being out of touch too long, or any one of a thousand things. _I could say I need a vacation, _she thought as she searched for a reason. It needed to be plausible because she didn't want them to think of her as one of those crazy ladies that talked to themselves.

"I've done it since I was a kid," she said waving her hand around nervously. It wasn't exactly a lie. She trailed her eyes from Mack to Bob and realized they were both staring at her. "What?"

"Why are you nervous?" Mack repeated slowly getting up from the chair. He walked around behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "You're tense."

"Are you two on the health committee now?" she questioned, not like being the center of attention. She could feel the two of them staring at her and she sighed just as Mack started to rub her shoulders. "Why didn't you tell the new guy I was part of the team?"

"Because he's new," Mack said gruffly.

"We aren't in the business of sharing our secrets," Bob said.

"So you don't trust him?" she asked with a perplexed expression on her face.

"He has to earn our trust," Bob answered her.

"Just like you did," Mack said.

"Ah, oh," Bridget winced just as Mack hit a tight spot on her neck. "Got it," she gasped as she tried to relax into his touch. It wasn't easy, his pressure was firm and the pain felt a little too damn good. "Mack!" she yelped as he kicked it up a notch and she felt the knot loosen under his fingertips.

"Aw, that was a good one," he chuckled.

"Ugh, god, you trying to kill me?" Bridget groaned through gritted teeth.

"If I was trying to kill you, you'd already be dead. I'm trying to get you to relax," Mack said with a laugh. "Close your eyes and think about floating in a cool pool of water."

"I can't swim remember? Water isn't relaxing to me," Bridget grumbled. She took a deep breath and tried to think of something else.

"Okay, think about your new friend," Bob said shrugging nonchalantly. He turned back to his computer and tried to pull off an innocent stance.

Bridget's eyes popped open and she stared at him furrowing her brow. "What new friend?" she questioned carefully.

"The one you met at Alexanders," Mack replied softening his pressure on his neck. "A certain red head?"

"How did ewe?" Bridget stammered feeling the heat on her neck crawl across her face. She had met a new friend her first night back at Fort Griffith, but this person wasn't the kind of friend a girl needed to be bragging about at the base. She felt the color drain from her face and suddenly felt like she needed some water.

"K-a-y-l-a," Bob spelled out looking over at Bridget. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with us," he said to assure her. "I was a little surprised, though. You like her?"

Bridget twisted her lips and tilted her head to the side. It felt good to be able to share her life with someone other than her cat. Over the course of her career, she had been forced to keep many secrets. Building confidences she could trust were a long time coming. "I might," she said with a sheepish grin. "Girl has to try something new."

"Well, you have good taste," Mack said patting her shoulders. He walked around her back to the chair. "Going for a red-head and all."

"Please," Bridget laughed. She suddenly felt more relaxed that she had in days. Bridget took a deep breath and leaned forward on the table. "So can this girl ask a question?" Bridget ventured carefully.

"Only if you stop talking in the third person," Bob replied standing up from the table and walking over to the small refrigerator. "You want a water?"

"Yeah," Bridget replied rolling her head on her shoulders. She took the bottle form Cool Breeze and twisted the cap off it.

"What's the question?" Mack prompted her twisting the cap on his water.

"If McBride is the new guy, what's that make me?"

"You really want us to answer that?" Bob said with a sly grin. "You're the gun welding – strategic expert crazy lady that talks to herself."

Bridget burst into laughter just as she took a swallow of water. She sprayed the liquid all of the table in front of her, just missing both laptops. _ Yep, this is what it's like to be home. _

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Boysclub 12

Sam McBride was on the team a month when the colonel assigned her to a mission with him. He made her nervous, but she convinced herself that it was her overactive imagination at work. Technically, he was a sound as any other operator and by Carlito's reports, the guy could jump like a kangaroo. Yet something about his eyes bothered her. A lot.

Bridget scanned the coffee shop in Paris and took a second to people watch, honing her surveillance skills. A couple by the window apparently on their first date, a student working frantically on his research project, an older woman with her daughter, Bridget tagged them all before her cell phone pinged.

"Hello?" she answered.

"He's not alone, looks like the French Minister's wife," Whiplash reported over the line.

"Alright," Red Cap replied peering over the rail to their contact on the main floor. The man was messing with his cell phone while he waited. "Stand by," Red Cap instructed Whiplash, keeping the line open. The line fell silent for a moment while Bridget waited for a sign from Colonel Ryan. She wondered if she should make idle conversation with her partner, but she had nothing to say. _Now if it was Beau or Henry or Zap or Square or even Jonas, this girl would be talking their ear off,_ she thought just as the ear piece crackled to life.

"They're about ready to take the field," Whiplash reported. "You want the over and under?" he joked.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Bridget replied frankly. She watched Dogpatch enter the café and head for the table just as Whiplash informed her that he had the shot. Bridget watched the contact leave the café and dial his cell phone. She zeroed in on the radio frequency and listen to the conversation.

"Target's moving," Whiplash said in her ear. "I'm going to lose my shot."

More conversation filtered through the line and McBride urgently informed her that the clock was ticking. Bridget pulled the earplug from her ear and ordered Whiplash off. "No go, No go, No go, we're being set up."

"Confirmed."

-0-

Several hours later, Bridget eavesdropping on the target, while the Colonel dumped the garbage and set up the next plan of action. She heard the door crash open and she watched her partner enter the room.

"Dogpatch zero six, front is tight, security out back, target has a guard by his room," Whiplash reported as he walked through the door and dropped his bag on the floor. "Roger that," he added tossing the phone on the table and stepping to the window.

Bridget watched him warily out of the corner of her eye. He barely even acknowledged her existence when he came in, not that she had really expected him too. The guy still gave her the creeps, but she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. _Maybe I just need to get to know him better, _she said.

_Better than the past twelve hours anyway, _Bridget considered as she refocused on the bug. The three had arrived in Paris early last evening and went their separate ways for dinner. Then Bridget ran into Sam at the hotel bar and shared some time with the man, trying to understand him. _Except that I don't know him any better today that I did three weeks ago, _she thought still watching him carefully.

"What she say?" Whiplash asked turning back from the window.

"She wants to know the next time they'll meet," Bridget replied adjusting the sound level. "I think he misses her too."

"Does he tell her what he does with his walk around money?" Whiplash asked taking his coat off and hanging on the chair.

"No."

"Then he's playing her."

"Is that what you do?" Bridget questioned him.

"Ah, no, I gave up being a romantic," Sam said with a grin. "But you're still one."

"Oh really?" Bridget remarked shaking her head. "How does that compute?"

"Well you know he's not being honest with the girl, but you hold out hope that his feelings for her are genuine," Sam said leaning into the table. "You have empathy for a lady who is sleeping with a terrorist. That makes you a romantic," he concluded sitting back in his chair.

_He pegged me, _Bridget nodded her head, at a loss for words while he laughed. It irritated her that people could read her like that. _Maybe it's because I spend too much time with this team, although Sam's new, so that can't be my excuse. _

"Now he's blaming her for bad room service," Sam added pointing at the listening device. "Yeah, he's a caring critter all right."

"Ah, he's teasing her," Bridget countered. She looked up to see Sam staring at her intently.

"Maybe she likes the attention," he said quietly holding her stare.

Bridget was stumped again at his words, trying to figure out if he was talking in code about her or just commenting on the target. She didn't have a chance to make a comment when the conversation on the bug gave them their opening. "Shhh," she said, pointing at the radio. "She's going for cigarettes."

-1-

The flame in the trash can started quickly and ate up the material that Sam slowly fed it.

"We make a pretty good team," Sam said tossing the maid uniform into the fire.

"It worked out," Bridget replied cautiously.

"You handled yourself well," he said looking back at her.

"So did you," Bridget commented kicking the dirt with toe of her shoe. She laced her hands behind her back and waited impatiently for the fire to burn the evidence away.

"So what's a tough girl like you doing dressing up as a French maid?" Sam asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Bridget shrugged her shoulders and looked down the canal wistfully. "Living out my fantasies just like you I guess," she said feeling a sense of security around him. She caught the movement of his hand at the side of her face and blocked his arm gently. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Combat isn't the only fantasy I have," Sam remarked locking eyes on hers.

Bridget hesitated a moment and looked down at the ground. _This is no different than my crush on Bob, _she thought giving her teammate the benefit of the doubt. "No."

"No?"

"The job is over. It's done," she said, searching for some words that made sense to explain this. "Now we go home. Church and state."

"Church and state?" Sam repeated quizzically.

"Now you got it," Bridget reaffirmed nodding her head. She watched Sam chuckled and look away.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said frankly.

"Don't give it another thought," she said bowing her head and walking away. She heard the crunch of the gravel as he headed in the opposite direction and released the breath she didn't know she had been holding. _I'm in a relationship with someone I truly care about and I have a crush on one of my teammates … that's too much clutter in my life, _she informed herself. _It's better this way. Keep it separate and simple. _

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Boys 13

"Red Cap! Hold up."

Bridget Sullivan stopped in her tracks and turned on her heel to the voice of Sam McBride. She watched as he jogged the last few steps to her, getting stopped on the way by Lieutenant Colonel Harmon. Bridget's relationship with Sam had become more casual the past few weeks. She had nearly forgotten the awkwardness of his "pass" and was starting to trust him. In actuality it was hard not to, Sam was a charmer. Those deep brown eyes and warm energetic smile won her over long before she was ready to let her guard down.

"Hey," he said as he turned from the LTC toward her. "I heard you're going home, for a funeral." He looked into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Bridget bit her lip and nodded, trying to hold back what little tears were inside of her. The funeral was for her brother who was KIA on some mission. Considering their relationship since they were kids and in the last few weeks, Bridget was sure she wouldn't have any feelings over his death, but she did all the same. _Blood is thicker than this uniform we wear, _she told herself before she answered him. "Yeah, I'm okay," she said nodding her head. "It's my brother. He was Navy," she rambled filling the silence. "KIA."

"I'm sorry," he said, running his hand down her arm cautiously. "You sure you're good? You need someone to water your cat?"

His comment made her laugh and _I needed that, _she thought. "Thank you, but a friend is going to take him," Bridget answered.

"Whew," Sam sighed holding his hand on his chest. "I would have done it ... but that cat of yours? He bites."

"He doesn't bite females," Bridget laughed.

"Oh, it's just a guy thing then huh?" Sam laughed. "When'ya coming back?"

"A few days."

"A few days?" he questioned. "You need to be with your family," he said a little urgently. "Take a week or two."

"I can't," she argued, shaking her head. "Things are heating up around here. I have responsibilities. People are expecting things …,"

"We all have responsibilities Bridget," Sam reminded her sharply. "Don't let anyone take advantage."

"That's the second time you've said that to me," Bridget commented wondering why the sudden concern about her workload.

"I just ... I just think you work too much," Sam said quickly. "You need to learn to say no once in a while." His cell phone pinged and he scowled. "I gotta go. Take care."

Bridget watched Sam walk away and turned to head back down the hall. _I say no …. Sometimes. _

-0-

The bar conversation was getting a little raunchy and she had had about enough. Bridget was all about being one of the guys, but tonight some of them had stepped over the line. Sam was drunk and Top? Not even trying to shut it down was unacceptable to her. _But maybe Dad and Bob and even Sam were right that I came back to work too early, _she surmised scooting out of her seat.

"You know what?" she said interrupting the boy conversation. "This girl is going home."

When Bridget came out of the ladies room and saw Sam at the bar, she knew he was up to no good. _Maybe I can just sneak by him, _she contemplated when she saw him turn to face her.

"Hey! I thought you left," he said practically slobbering on himself.

"I ah," Bridget stuttered looking around frantically for Bob or Top of someone to help her out.

"You know what I could use? I could use a ride home," Sam gurgled to her in his drunken state. "I can't drive on base like this … base cops will pick me up and that's an automatic suspension."

Bridget considered it for less than half a second. Those brown puppy dog eyes of his could warm anyone's heart, but his intentions were anything but honorable. The look in his eye was hungry and not for food either.

"Wha'd'ya? Maybe a place to crash for the night," Sam said holding her gaze. He stood up quickly and put his hand on her arm, making Bridget really really nervous.

"It sounds like it's not going to happen," Bridget replied to him in the nicest voice she could muster.

Sam was visibly put out by her turn down. "Well, we could do this … let's stay and have a few more…."

"Hey! You're at a tactical disadvantage, mister," Bridget said cutting him off. "I'm not interested."

"You're not interested since when?" Sam countered reaching for her arm again. He pulled her close, trying to kiss her, when she snapped her arm away.

"No Sam," Bridget said firmly catching sight of Bob walking up behind them. "You're way off base." Bridget walked quickly to the stairs and looked back in time to hear Bob order the staff sergeant back into his corner.

She argued with herself the whole way back to her apartment. _I came back to soon, I sent the wrong messages, he took my friendship the wrong way, _the words swirled around her head at a dizzying pace and topped off with the alcohol made her a little nauseous. _He's going to come into the briefing tomorrow and apologize for being a jerk, _she convinced herself as she stepped out of her car in the parking lot of her apartment.

"Hey!"

"How! Seriously" Bridget cried when she saw Sam walk up to her. _I don't need this tonight, _she thought as she kept on walking.

"I want to apologize," he said following her every step.

"Save it for tomorrow," she replied curtly trying to ignore him.

Sam jumped into her path to block her movements. "I worked it out. It's good. Will you do me the honor and listen to me?"

"Tomorrow Sergeant," Bridget said flatly walking around his body. "Go home." Her avoidance of him lasted all of two seconds.

"Look, it'z hard forme to eet women," Sam said his words slurring together. "I can exactly take outta ad… six foot, blue ewes, kills for a livin."

"Take your self pity and sleep it off," Bridget replied.

"I can't sleep until I make this right," he commented jumping back in front of her again.

"Okay, whether you sleep or not is no concern of mine, Sergeant. Go somewhere, just not here."

"I guess I'm just confused," Sam yelled blocking her path again. "I keep hearing that you're on the team. You're not part of the team. You're just visiting," he laughed in her face. "You don't belong here," he added his voice turning from a joke to serious.

"That is fascinating but pathetic pal, okay?" Bridget countered. "How dense are you?' she asked turning to walk to the building.

"No,no,no,no" Sam said skipping to catch up to her. "I wanna get this right. You're not one of us right? You're not a shooter, you just come along for the ride. So we don't have to follow the same rules then right? The rules don't apply to you, so the rules don't apply to me."

Bridget wasn't paying attention to him when he moved up and tried to kiss her. The struggle between them followed quickly and brought eerily similar memories of fighting her brother just months ago. As much as she didn't think Sam would really hurt her, his actions put the fear of god in her at this moment. Each attempt to get away or scream out for help was followed with a push or a shove from him in the ribs, in the knee or to the face. She could feel him pawing at her pants, slipping his hand to the zipper trying to yank it down. The icy indifference of his fingers touching her skin sent shivers up her spine. His mouth was running as fast as his hands were moving until someone finally walked up and interrupted them.

-1-

Eyes followed her as she limped down the hall to the briefing room. _Do guys get stared at this much when they are bruised and battered, _Bridget questioned as she silently resisted the urge to yell at the onlookers. It didn't get much better when she walked into the briefing. All three men in the room stopped talking and stared at her like she had an alien coming out of her head. It was all she could do to keep the tears inside and hold it together.

"You have something on your face," Bob commented breaking the silence and the stares.

"No I ah … I dropped a barbell this morning," Bridget stammered out her cover story. The glares of the three senior men told her that weak and unbelievable was all it was.

"Good morning Warrant Officer," Colonel Ryan greeted her sarcastically. "I'm sure you know your watch is slow."

"Sir, I've adjusted it sir," Bridget replied quickly to the man. "Thank you sir," she added in a lower volume tone.

"Sergeant Major you're still short one man," Colonel Ryan said pointing out the obvious.

Bridget heard Jonas acknowledge the colonel's statement about the team, but didn't listen to the words. She could feel Bob staring at her, with a look of concern on his face. _God, please get this over with,_ she thought staring straight at the desk top. In the background, Colonel Ryan rambled on about the mission, but the loudest thing in her ear was her heart thudding in her chest. It goaded her like a monster under the bed, resurrecting the attack from the night before to the point that Bridget could barely breathe.

"Sergeant Major does your team need the room?"

"Yes sir. Thank you sir," Jonas's baritone voice replied.

Bridget heard the colonel leave and did everything she could to avoid the eyes of her team. The glare of their concern was blinding her. "We should get back to the briefing," she muttered trying to push the tears away.

"Look at me," Jonas commanded. "Say the words."

The warmth of his eyes sucked her in as Bridget felt her chin tremble with hurt. The tears she fought so hard to contain streamed slowly down her cheeks as she tried desperately to look away. "He surprised me at my car," Bridget mumbled as phlegm clogged her throat. "He threw me down and tried to…," her voice trailed off as she looked down at the desk. "He tried to rape me."

It was almost unbelievable that Sam McBride would do that to her or to any woman. Sure he had come on to her weeks ago when they first met, but they had an understanding of sorts. _At least I thought we did, _she considered as the lines between friends and enemies began to blur.

Jonas put his hand to her chin and gently pulled her head up to meet his eyes. "Say the name," he asked quietly.

"Sam," Bridget gurgled as the sobs escaped her throat. The exchange of words between Bob and Jonas were lost as she stared blankly at the floor trying to rein her emotions in. _I will not cry in front of these men, _she practically yelled at herself. _I'm always the victim, Bob's always saving me and today, I don't need to be saved. _

Bob was back before Bridget had even registered he and Jonas had gone. She silently listened to his propaganda bull that spewed from his mouth as she paced nervously around the room. She was slowly getting her confidence back and he was not going to derail that train.

"Bob don't get me wrong. I appreciate the lack of M.P's. I appreciate the unit handling things," she said leaning against the desk. "I just want to know, why did Jonas go alone?"

Bob hesitated a moment before answering her, like he was sizing her up in some official sort of way. "Sam is trained in spot surveillance and pursuit. We use his training to identify our enemies whether its counter intelligence or anti-military strike teams before they act," Bob remarked playing with a pen he had picked up from the desk. "They labor so hard to make themselves invisible, make everything appear normal that the lack of ordinary makes them stand out. So in Sam's case, if we send five, six or twelve guys after him, we might as well send in a marching band and a drum major."

"Yes, of course," Bridget said nodding her head. She heard every word that he said, but the only thing that stuck in her mind was _six or twelve guys. _"Those six or twelve guys belong to any particular team?" she muttered pushing off the desk.

"Alpha, Gamma and Delta are in the barn," Bob replied.

_All my big brothers, _she tossed around in her head. _Those guys find him … he'll be dead. _The thought brought her little relief, from the friendship that he violated. Bridget pushed off the desk and paced around the room. "I'm okay Bob," she said a little louder than she intended.

"I didn't ask," he reminded her gently.

"I know," she replied. "But you wanted too….shzz!" she blurted out as the door to the briefing room swung open catching her by surprise. She flinched at the noise and watched as the Colonel slowly stepped in.

"Soldier, it's time you and I had a conversation," he said gravely. "An injury report is required for this investigation."

"Sir, I don't want an investigation," Bridget retorted defensively.

"I don't recall asking you," Ryan informed her flatly.

"Sir, I don't want this on my record," she argued. "I don't want … I don't want to be treated as a victim." Bridget couldn't even look at her commanding officer as she muttered the words, embarrassed that they even had to come out of her mouth.

"Understood. Now get yourself down to the med shed," Ryan said bluntly, opening the door. "Sergeant Brown stay with her and make sure she follows that order."

"Yes sir," Bridget and Bob replied in unison.

The door slammed shut to the room and Bridget turned to grab her bag. "I don't need you to hold my hand," she grumbled tossing the strap over her shoulder.

"Bridget, I should have landed on the guy when he stepped out of line," Bob explained ruefully.

"You did," she reminded him.

"No, not good enough. I could done a lot more to remind him he needed to give you more respect than that. I should have driven you home to make sure you got there safe. Shit, I could have even taken him back to the base."

"Look, you're not the rapist or the victim, so just sit back and enjoy the show," she retorted opening up the door. She stepped into the hall and noticed Bob following her wordlessly. "You're following me."

"I was ordered too," he remarked frankly.

"Well I'm giving you a different order to not follow me," she replied crisply. "I'll go. Alone." She caught the look of resistance in his face as his jaw clenched tightly. "Let me guess, Colonel Ryan told you to disregard anything that I say?" she questioned watching him nodded silently. "Fine," she relented quietly.

_I didn't want to be alone anyway. _

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Boys club 14

The whirling shutter of the camera purred away as the medical technician documented her injuries. Bridget flinched as she felt the hand on her face, turning her chin to provide the camera a better view. Then she stood from the bed and dropped the gown to her waist to reveal the bruising and scratches to her ribs, her breast and her back. The whole process humiliated her. Between the questions and the probing, Bridget felt like she was a pin cushion instead of a person. Everyone was trying to be nice but no one was noticing her pain.

The last med tech left the curtain area and Bridget leaned back on the bed, covering her eyes with her arm. The whole experience was so impersonal and revolting. _How many times can they ask if he touched me, how he touched me, did he kiss me, or did I fight back, _she wondered remembering the nurse scraping skin from under her fingernails. _I scratched him? _she questioned trying to piece it all back together.

"Hey," Bob called sticking his head inside the drape. "Ready for a visitor?"

"Yeah," Bridget replied. Her voice was sad and her eyes were tired, but she scooted up on the bed to make herself more presentable. "They're sending me to x-ray in a minute," she said pointing at her face. "It's a little tender."

"It's turning into a nice shiner," Bob commented. "I don't think it's broken."

"Probably just an excuse to give me radiation poisoning," she mumbled casting her eyes down from his face and turned her head away from him. "Maybe this is … I dunno know, maybe he or I could have...maybe…."

"No," Bob said firmly. He cupped her chin and pulled her face back to him. "This wasn't your fault Bridge. You need to stow that line of thinking." Bob caught a tear with his thumb as it trailed down her face.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled trying to stifle her tears. "Crying is a sign of weakness."

"No it's not," Bob said stroking her cheek. "Who fed you that line of crap?"

"My dad, when I was little and Adam and I would fight," Bridget said with a distant glaze in her eye. "He said I needed to live with disappointment and hurt, that it was a way of life."

"Well, he was half right. You need to be able to accept disappointment and hurt, but stuffing your emotion over them isn't the way to solve it," Bob remarked. "If you can't feel anything, then you can't own up to the consequences."

"Is that your way of …" Bridget mumbled as the sobs riddled her body. She felt her face wrinkle into that unattractive scrunch and mentally berated herself for looking like that in front of Bob.

"Hey, it's okay," he said pulling her into his arms.

Bridget melted into the warmth of his embrace and emptied the sobs into the fabric of his shirt. She wasn't just crying for what happened last night, but for everything that she kept hidden under the surface. _My father, Adam, my failed advancements and inability to commit, _Bridget mused as the tears washed it all away. As she started to focus on this moment, she felt Bob's hand stroking her hair. _A year ago, he was a stranger to me, then one martini in an Israeli bar changed it all, _she contemplated. _He had me at hello, _she thought remembering a line from a cheesy chick-flick.

"Sam made some weird comment to me," she sniffled into Bob's shirt. "Something about not letting people take advantage." She pulled out of his arms and slumped against the bed again.

"When did he say that to you?" Bob asked with a suspicious tone. "Last night?"

"No," Bridget remarked shaking her head. "A couple weeks ago, before I went home for the funeral. I met him in the hall." Her words were slow and drawn, like she was reliving the memory in her mind.

"He just said it out of the blue?" Bob asked her carefully.

"He said I should take more time off for my family," she said shaking the memory. She glanced up at Bob and noticed a calculated expression on his face. "What do you think he meant?"

"I dunno, maybe he just thought you should take a vacation. You do work too much," Bob replied downplaying any suspicion he had about Sam's motives. Before he could say another word his cell phone rang. He held up his finger _to hold that thought_ while he answered it. "That was Top," he said shoving the phone back in his pocket.

Bridget looked at her friend. He didn't say anything else because she knew exactly what that meant. "You gotta go," Bridget sighed quietly. It wasn't a question as much as a statement. She didn't want him to leave, but he had to all the same. "I'll be okay."

"We'll talk later," Bob said hesitating at the side of her bed.

She looked up at him and noticed he hadn't moved. Part of her didn't want him too. She wanted him to stay at her side while she endured the tests and hold her hand while she cried. The other side wanted him to leave and not see her like this. But duty called, so he had too. "Bob," she said gently nudging him along.

"Okay," he said quietly. He turned and walked through the drape without another word.

-0-

"Whoa," Bridget moaned as the room and the floor spun out of control. She reached out for an anchor and completely missed. She slumped to the floor just as she felt hands grabbing at her. Her reaction was a flinch, but the thick odor of aftershave relaxed her. Maybe a little too much, as she tilted her head back on the floor. The darkness of the room enveloped her quickly. Oddly while she couldn't open her eyes, her ears worked fine.

"Geezus, she's out cold."

"I'll get the car. The colonel finds here like this, we'll be cleaning latrines for a week."

The owners of the voices were lost on Bridget's senses, yet she could still distinguish between man and woman. The commotion around her seemed stifled and clumsy as those that had sat with her tried to figure out what to do with her. _These guys carry guns for a living? __No wonder I have to coordinate everything in the TOC. _

"Why'd you let her drink so much?"

"Like I let her? She's a grown woman."

"She's a grown woman that just had some frakked up shit happen to her."

"Look, I'm not the one that started it. It was Jonas's idea."

"Yeah? And where is he now?"

"He jumped a flight back to LA."

"And why didn't you go with him?"

"Ah …I… I couldn't leave her."

"Bob if you had left with Jonas, Bridget wouldn't be passed out on the floor of the locker room right now. She'd be in her apartment."

"Alone."

"Yeah, well, there is that. Bridget can you hear me?"

_It's just a whisper, _Bridget thought trying to pull herself back from the TV show she was watching in her mind. The parody between her partners was no different than an ole Odd Couple episode. _Except Felix and Oscar aren't trying to wake me up, _she mused as her name kept reverberating in her head.

"Bridget. Hey sleeping beauty." Her eyelids fluttered open briefly which told the men that she could hear them at least. "Give me the smelling salts and a bucket."

"The car's out front, wouldn't it be better just to carry her out?"

_You aren't …. _"carryeeyout," Bridget gurgled putting her hand out on someone's knee. "Tzzsing altszizer," she added rolling her head to the side.

"Okay," Bob replied with a chuckle. "Then get up on your feet."

"You understood that?" Square asked as he and Bob lifted Bridget into a sitting position.

"It's an acquired skill," Bob replied grabbing the waste can. He stuck it under her face just before she puked and pulled her hair back out of the way.

"Good timing," Square commented.

"Get out of my way Square."

"Yes, ma'm."

"Don't ma'm me, I'm not your mother. Go get in the car."

"Geezus for not being my mother, you sure do sound like her."

"Kayla, a hand here," Bob asked the sergeant as he handed the bucket to Square and asked him to rinse it out.

Bridget watched it all like a surreal dream. She watched as the three sergeants picked her up off the floor and cleaned her up enough to look presentable in the event they ran into some officer on the way to the car.

"I'm okay," Bridget grasped hanging onto Bob's arm for dear life. "I can walk," she proclaimed taking a step and nearly falling flat on her face.

"Uh huh, right," Kayla grunted as she and Bob caught her. "Why don't you let us be the judge of that," Kayla added.

"You got her?" Bob asked.

"I'm good," Kayla replied.

"I'm good too," Bridget remarked with a hiccup.

-1-

The tears burned her face as they escaped her eyes. Every breath she took suffocated her, the bile in her throat choked her. The pounding in her head blinded her senses, tormented her sanity. She rolled her forehead across the edge of the porcelain bowl and stared blankly at the floor. She barely registered the footsteps behind her or the cool towel against her skin or the pressure against her back or the hiss of room freshener being blasted in the air.

"Bridge."

She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice and cursed the event that brought them here. Trust was a luxury she only afforded the few. Perhaps she let this group get to close to her, opened herself up to easily to them. _Was hurt by them, _she thought as she gasped for breath and tried to keep her stomach contents down.

"Come on," he coaxed gently. "You need to get out of this room, you need some fresh air."

"I'm gonna barf," she mumbled bristling at his touch.

"No you're not," Bob said helping her off the floor. "You need some water and an aspirin."

"Why are you here?" she questioned. She stumbled against him as he steered her into the bedroom and dumped her on the bed. Bridget looked up at him as he handed her a bottle of Gatorade and two white pills.

"Someone needed to take care of you last night," he replied.

"But it's always you Bob," Bridget practically cried in a post drunken plea. "You always see me at my worst, when I'm crying and sick, when I bleeding or practically dead. You're always the one. Why? Why Bob?"

"Because I'm your friend, Bridge," he said sitting on the bed next to her. "From that first day I met you in that bar in Israel, I knew we were going to be friends. And I don't always see you at your worst. Mostly I see you when you're at the top of your game, when you're not afraid to kick ass, shoot first and ask questions later."

"Your wife hates me," Bridget muttered.

"No she doesn't," he said pulling her into a shoulder hug. "She just doesn't know you very well."

"We should change that," Bridget commented slurping down the pills and the Gatorade. She drained half the bottle and set it down on the nightstand.

"We should," Bob agreed. "We could have a barb-b-que and you could do the funky chicken."

"Shit," she moaned as she started to hyperventilate. "There'll be no funky chicken today," she hissed darting back into the bathroom.

It was less than ten seconds when she felt him back at her side. _Holding my hair while I puke ….he should win a prize for that. _

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Boys club 15.

_Sheez, what'd I get myself into, _Bridget wondered kicking down the toilet lid. She peered to the side of the bowl to reach the flush valve. "This is crap," she muttered under her breath. "Manually operated toilets in a room half the size of a closet? Port-a-johns are bigger than this," she cursed as the water whooshed through the bowl. She flipped the valve shut and checked it twice to make sure it off. Bridget turned to open the door and bumped her elbow on the wall. "Shit," she mumbled as she shimmied into the wet suit in the less than spacious accommodations.

She emerged from the sorry excuse for a bathroom a few minutes later. The wet suit was skin-tight and perfectly accented her curves. Bridget headed toward the escape hatch at the far end of the sub. She passed several crewmen in the hallway, who stepped aside to let her pass. _And to look, _she noted mentally. _At least I don't have a saggy backend, _she assured herself.

"Hey! About time, I was starting to get worried about you," Mack commented when she finally made it to the hatch.

"Sorry," Bridget shrugged. "Quarters were a little tight in there for changing."

"I tried to warn you," Bob replied zipping up her equipment bag and hanging it over her shoulder. "You're the one that wanted to get dressed in private."

"Yeah, well, now I get it why women aren't allowed to serve on subs," Bridget remarked. "Sharing bunks, bathrooms no bigger than closets? No woman in her right mind would put up with that for more than a day," she chuckled.

"Time clock on this mission is four days, so what's your excuse?" Mack asked hanging the oxygen tank on her back.

"I said _right _mind remember?" Bridget chuckled nervously. She stared at the regulator and glanced up at Bob and Mack. "Obviously I'm not in my right mind. I'm on a sub in the middle of the ocean and in order to complete this mission, I'm going to have to swim? I can barely swim," she blurted out a little breathlessly.

"Bridge, take a breath, you're practically hyperventilating!" Mack remarked. "We're not in the middle of the ocean … we're about 300 yards from shore." He tugged the hood of her wet suit over her head and zipped it up.

"And you don't need to swim exactly," Bob added, attaching the headlamp to the suit. "I'll be right beside you the whole way. Just breathe, in and out through your mouth and kick your feet. You're natural buoyancy will take you the rest of the way." He guided her hand up to the light so she could feel for the switch. "Turn it on once we leave the sub."

"Turn the light off when we get to the surface," Mack replied unzipping his suit to shove his weapon inside. "Your clothes and shoes are in the bag."

"Got it," Bridget said nodding her head.

"Okay," Mack replied signaling to the crewman standing next to the escape hatch ladder. "Let's get this show on the road."

_Oh, crap! _Bridget thought as Bob motioned for her to climb up the ladder.

-0-

The rain pelted her face and soaked her shirt as she ran up to the door. She rang the doorbell frantically a few times and tried to shake off the excess wetness. _Hope the wet suit is easier to get in wet, _she thought just as the door yanked open.

"Hi, sorry to disturb you, but I got a flat tire a few miles back and I dropped my cell phone in a puddle," Bridget rambled off in her best _blonde_ performance in a foreign language. She held up the dummy phone and let it drip for show to the homeowner. "Would it be possible for me to use your phone to call a tow truck?"

The excuse and an excessive amount of cleavage got her in the door. A glass of wine, a few innuendos and a lot of flirting later, allowed Bridget into the '_guest room' _for a warm shower. She let Bob and Mack in through the window and they went to work on securing the package. Bridget turned the shower on the hottest setting to steam up the room quickly and milled around the larger bathroom waiting for the boys to come back. It was all going smoothly until her host made an unexpected visit to her shower.

"Hmm, mademoiselle," he purred sneaking up behind her and running his sleazy paws over her shirt. "You're body is too fine for me pass up."

She felt her heart pound wildly in her chest and she ducked out of the man's grasp. "Oh! I didn't hear you come in," she gasped backing up against the wall opposite the shower.

"Stealthy feet, they come in handy," the man replied with a chuckle.

Bridget eyed the person standing in front of her. He was about fifty, gray hair and an extremely hairy uni-brow. The man was anything but stealthy, weighing in at over two hundred and seventy five pounds, his gut hung over his belt and practically down to the his knees.

"You were offering yourself to me? No?"

It took Bridget a second to realize the man was talking to her in the background and just as she steered her focus on him again, he started to walk toward her. "No!" Bridget yelped as she tried unsuccessfully to dodge his grouping hands.

The contact couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds. The brush of his hand across her breast sent her reaction into overload. For all the times she couldn't out-power her attacker in the past, Bridget had the upper hand in this situation. She grabbed the man's wrist, spun him around into the crook of her arm and squeezed. The man failed his arms around and scratched at her face. He dominated her by his size and they bounced off the edge of the vanity, which resulted in Bridget grunting loudly in pain.

_Why can I not overpower these guys, _she questioned herself as the guy nearly wriggled out of her grasp. _He's fighting like a girl, so treat him like a girl, _Bridget yelled silently as she gave him a dose of female ass-whooping. Once she stopped trying to fight like a guy, she dropped him to the floor. Bridget was staring wordlessly at her handiwork when Mack came around the corner.

"What happened?" Mack demanded as he entered the guest bathroom.

"He wanted to hold hands," Bridget replied backing up against the vanity.

"That wasn't very nice," Mack commented, squatting over the body to check for a pulse. "He's dead," Mack announced looking up at Red Cap. "His neck is broken."

"Shit," Bridget cursed even though she was stunned at her own strength. Truth of the matter, she wasn't that surprised that she killed him because his groping action and disgusting perverted comments really creeped her out. This target was the unfortunate victim of the aggression that she had masked all these days just below the surface. "Can we dump him in the shower?"

"Yeah, it's better than the floor," Mack agreed grabbing a towel off the rack. He stepped into the shower and stuffed it into the drain cause the water to pool. "Give me a hand."

They drug the body into the shower and Mack turned the perves head into the pooling water. Bridget stepped out of the stall and watched as Mack wiped down the door handle, the faucets and the counter top. Movement at the door caused both unit members to draw their weapons and nearly shoot a friendly.

"Whoa," Bob said at the doorway. "What happened in here?"

"Unexpected change of plans," Mack replied dropping the towel in the shower with the body. "Our Black Widow got the drop on him."

"Maybe we should change her nickname," Bob remarked surveying the disaster in the shower.

"A girl might like that," Mack replied with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm sure a girl might, but I'm sticking with what I've got," Red Cap replied defensively. The room and the eerie slimly feeling was giving her the creeps. "You two ready to go?"

"Lead the way," Bob laughed as one ticked off Bridget stormed out of the bathroom.

-1-

Killing the target gave Bridget a sense of closure in a weird sort of way. A proving ground of sorts. In the weeks since both her attacks Bridget had been questioning her abilities. She had taken Beau and Square up on their offer of extra training sessions but still she had wondered if she was cut out for this. Tonight answered all those questions. The fact that she survived the whole damn thing was an accomplishment. _I survived boarding this sub via cable, living amongst the boys, swimming underwater without a life jacket, breathing with scuba gear and taking out the target ... although that part didn't exactly go as planned, _she concluded. _A girl feels pretty good about myself, _she thought as she stepped to the side to let someone pass.

She slowly walked the corridor from the mess hall to crew berthing area. She had walked it twice to kill time ….not ready to go to sleep, but not having anywhere else to go. The cramped quarters of the sub left little to be desired in privacy. Her options for 'hanging out' included the mess hall or crew quarters, both of which were filled with men that acted like they never saw a woman before … or at least not in a very long time. The only thing Bridget had going for her on this mission was the location of her bunk. Stuck somewhere on the _other side _of the wall … between the officer's and the chiefs, Bridget had one of the few bunks that she didn't have to share with anyone.

After wandering aimlessly in what little space available, Bridget decided that she was better off headed for bed. _Might as well, I'm already dressed for it, _she noted reviewing her sleeping attire for this trip. … warm-ups and a t-shirt. _Mack wasn't too pleased, _Bridget chuckled as she walked to her bunk. _No silk nightie here, _she thought turning the corner to enter the berthing area.

"Ooops!" she blurted out as she crashed right into Cool Breeze. She felt his hands on her arms as their bodies veered off each other.

"Oh hey," he stammered stumbling over his words and her body. "I was looking for you."

"Really?" Bridget replied with a disbelieving tone. "It's not a big ship," she remarked, immediately regretting the attitude she dealt him.

"Ouch!" Bob winced not missing a beat. "I wanted …"

"Don't say it," Bridget remarked holding her hand up.

"You don't even know what I was going to say," Bob argued.

"You were going to ask if I was okay," Bridget replied completely annoyed. "It's your tag line, Bob! You know, you should change your call sign to …I don't know … _Okay checker!" _ She crossed her arms at her chest and stared at him.

"Okay, you got me," he said holding his hands up in surrender. "Yes I was going to ask that, but not because I give a crap about what happened in the bathroom that sent you over the edge. I could care less about that," Bob said resting his hands on his hips. "I just want to make sure you're okay for the mission briefing."

"The mission briefing?" Bridget questioned with a perplexed expression on her face.

"Colonel Ryan," Bob supplied. "You know, he's going to ask if we got out clean and since it didn't actually go according to plan, he's going to want to know why."

"I gotta go to that?" Bridget mumbled as she realized she had no clue what she was going to say about her actions.

"Yes, Bridget," Bob replied. "All team members need to attend the briefing, which includes you … since this time you were part of the action and not just sitting on your butt in the TOC."

_Crap! _ Bridget cursed as her mind spun backwards on how she was going to explain herself. "I ah …. I didn't, I don't…. I haven't exactly thought that through yet," she choked over her words.

"Yeah, I thought so," Bob remarked coolly nodding his head. "So maybe it would be a good idea if you, me and Mack talked it through … so you're prepared for the Colonel later?"

Bridget bit her lip and looked into those damn warm hazel eyes of his. "That sounds good," she agreed. _That sounds real good, _she repeated as she followed him down the hall.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Boys Club Final

There were times when Bridget Sullivan really admired Colonel Tom Ryan and was proud to be on his team. He challenged his staff to be at the top of their game and he expected excellence from them, In the face of obstacles, he allowed the team to problem solve on the fly and figure out a better way. His accolades were hard earned and always well deserved, and ignited a renewed sense of motivation and determination. Other days, Bridget Sullivan thought Colonel Tom Ryan was a bastard. In the year that Bridget had worked in the unit, she had accumulated a laundry list…the events of the past two weeks only confirmed it. Between his request to her that she _stand down _from her pursuit of Sergeant McBride to the cover-up regarding Molly Blaine's disappearance, it more obvious to more than just Red Cap that he had master-minded this operation from the start.

No one budged an inch when Jonas marched into the TOC and pinned the colonel to the wall. The sound proof glass couldn't mask their raised voices as Jonas called Ryan out on everything Alpha and Bravo teams had endured the past few months, the trumped up missions, the risk thrust upon the Alpha team wives and Sam's rogue assignment. The crushing blow hit Bridget square in the face when she watched Jonas point her out in the middle of the room and forced the Colonel to admit he ordered Sam to assault her. Despite she suspected the ruse for months, the truth nearly blindsided her. A line had been drawn in the sand and Red Cap's tenure hung in the balance.

-0-

"Bridget, Colonel Harmon wants to see you in his office."

Bridget hesitated at her desk before she looked into the eyes of her friend, Sergeant Kayla Medawar. "Okay," she muttered pushing back from the desk. This was her moment, she had struggled with her decision for days… stay or leave and now that the moment was upon her, the answer was as clear as mud.

"What are you going to tell him?" Kayla asked putting a hand to her sleeve.

"I haven't exactly made my decision yet," Bridget replied standing up from her desk.

"Bridge, you can't harbor a grudge on an order that came from above," Kayla reminded her. "I don't like anymore than you. It was a shitty thing for the Colonel to do, but…" her voice trailed off as she tried to get her friend to reconsider. "None wants to lose you," she added in a whisper.

Bridget nodded and scanned the room. A casual glance gave the illusion that everyone was working, but Bridget knew this team too well. These people in this room … an extension of the teams in the field … were waiting and watching for her next move.

The trip down the hall to the Lieutenant Colonel's office was the longest twenty seconds of her life. The memories of her time flashed before her eyes … the missions she coordinated, the assets she had built, the friendships she had forged, all things that had been missing from her life up until a year ago. She slowed her gait just outside the door and exhaled slowly as she turned the corner into his office, into her life.

"You wanted to see me sir?" she asked as she stood just outside the doorway.

"Warrant Officer Sullivan, come in," the lieutenant colonel beckoned her from where he stood behind his desk. "I've asked Sergeant Major Haney to sit in for this discussion. Have a seat."

The butterflies twitching around in Bridget's stomach went into overload with impending doom, but one would never know by the stoic expression on her face.

"I've been tasked with determining your fitness to remain part of the team," he said with a tone as dry as dust. The elder man took a seat behind his desk and cleared his throat. "Since you were the unfortunate victim of Sergeant McBride's mission, it would be understandable and warranted if you transferred to another assignment. I have found comparable assignments in Washington, Texas and overseas."

"I don't understand sir," Bridget replied with a perplexed tone. "It sounds like the decision has already been made."

The Lieutenant Colonel glanced at Haney to his left and leaned forward on his seat. "The decision has not been made Warrant Officer; however, considering the Sergeant McBride will be remaining as part of Alpha team, I assumed that you would be requesting a transfer."

"Before you even discussed it with me?" Bridget blurted out accidently. "Respectfully sir, if there some other element of my fitness that is in question here?" She trailed her gaze from the Lieutenant Colonel to Haney, who stood in the corner with an odd smirk on his face.

"No Warrant Officer," Harmon remarked shuffling some files on his desk. "I have reviewed mission reports and requested evaluations from each team lead about your abilities and performance over the past year and have not received one negative report. In fact, Sergeant Major Haney and Sergeant Major Blaine have filed official letters stating the unit would suffer a substantial loss if you were to leave."

_No one wants me to go, _Bridget realized as she sat in the chair. _If I can't work through this thing with him, then I'm no better off than I was the day I got here. _She swallowed hard and pushed her insecurities away. "Then I believe you have my decision sir," Bridget replied firmly.

"And what exactly would that be Warrant Officer?" the older man prodded her.

"I'm staying," Bridget replied flatly.

"And your relationship with Sergeant McBride?"

"Sir, I've read the mission report and understand he was acting under orders," Bridget answered. "The incident will not cloud my judgment or affect my professional relationship with him."

"Very well then Warrant Officer," the lieutenant colonel replied with a smile on his face. "You may return to your post in the TOC."

Bridget stood up from the desk and turned to walk out of the room. A huge weight was lifted from her shoulders. This was her place and she was home.

"Red Cap."

"Sergeant?" Bridget responded turning back to look at Sergeant Major Haney.

"For the record, there are no women in the unit," Haney said stiffly. "So no frilling up the locker room."

"Duly noted, Sergeant," Bridget replied with a smile on her face.

-1-

Bridget pulled the door to the locker room and walked in, nodding to the men that were exiting. After a year, they were used to sharing space with her in her unofficial capacity in the unit. Bridget turned the corner heading toward the latrine and came face to face with Sergeant Bohrman as he exited in the shower.

"Square!" Bridget exclaimed covering her eyes. He was wearing a towel, but was dripping wet.

"Bridge," he grunted sheepishly. "Give me a second, I'll clear out."

"No, its okay," she said backing out of the shower area. "You were here first, I'll just …"

"Hey, I heard you're staying," he yelled at her once she had cleared the door.

"You heard that already?" Bridget commented. "I just made the decision an hour ago."

"Yeah, it's around," he said walking toward the door wearing shorts this time. He walked to his locker and pulled a t-shirt out.

"It's around already," Bridget repeated with a quizzical tone.

"I was in the training room, Haney told me," he shrugged. "You talk to Whiplash?"

"Sort of," she remarked opening the door to her locker.

"You can't hold a grudge, Bridge," Square commented pulling the t-shirt over his head. "We don't sign up for this job because we're going to be friendly or nice. You want to be friendly and nice? Go be a fireman."

"That's your official stance?" she questioned him, barely hearing the door opening in the background.

"Bridget."

"Sam," Bridget sputtered feeling her face turn five shades of red.

"I ah… I didn't knaah, I can leave," he mumbled stumbling over his words. He started walking backward in retreat and nearly tripped over the top of Square.

_If I could change this moment, _Bridget considered when she noticed the look on Square's face. _He's giving me an out, _she thought, drawing up her confidence to face Sam on her own terms … alone and not in front of everyone in the TOC. "No," Bridgett said shutting the door to her locker. "Square can you give us the room?"

She watched Bohrman gather his things and leave without saying a word. _He didn't even offer to kick Sam's ass … not that I'd let him, _she contemplated as she tried to figure out what to say. Two days ago she had a whole speech worked out in her head, now suddenly she was at a loss for words.

"You were right," she finally said breaking the silence. "That people would take advantage of me."

"Yeah, I took advantage," he agreed. "I used things you told me in confidence against you." Sam walked to his locker and opened the door. He started to mess around with the contents just to have something to do with his hands.

"No, I meant the colonel," she said. "You warned me … and you were right. I've thought about for weeks. It's made me question a lot of things."

"What kind of things?"

"Like was the only reason the colonel let me stay was because I was a nice distraction?" she replied ruefully. This was Bridget talking from the heart that was still broken from the fork he had slammed into it.

"Is that what you think?" Sam asked.

"Sometimes I don't think it matters what I think. My roles here are always the same," she said. She chided herself when she felt her lip quivering.

"Someone plays that role on every mission," Sam said turning to look at her. "It's called evade and escape, creating a diversion so the rest of the team can retreat."

"You can just stop with the official propaganda bull," Bridget remarked putting her hand up to stop him.

"You know what your problem is? You don't want to hear the truth about things," Sam said pulling a fresh towel out of the locker and heading toward the shower. "If you just want to wallow in a pity party … then you're on your own Warrant Officer."

"Excuse me?" Bridget questioned him. He had touched a nerve with her, the same nerve that every guy on the team had bumped up against the past few weeks. _Or the past year, _Bridget contemplated as a flush of words raced through her mind. _Maybe I can't get passed this because I don't want to get passed it. _Sam turned on her like he could read her mind.

"I'm not the one that doesn't think you're part of the team." Sam pointed at his chest while he was talking. "It's _you_ that doesn't believe it. Hell half the time I think you do it on purpose so you have something to cry about."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she fired back at him completely enraged.

"Were you the middle child or something?" Sam questioned her. "Because the way you act out … it reminds me of my older brother getting into trouble on purpose because he needed the attention."

"You have no right to talk to me that way!" she screaming practically lunging at him. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Bridget felt the heat on her skin, but the yelling felt so good

"I'm your friend Bridget," Sam replied frankly.

"My friend?" she guffawed as her jaw dropped to the floor. "I have plenty of friends sergeant … friends that aren't afraid of telling me the truth. Friends that have my back and don't try to take advantage. Friends that wouldn't have followed some heinous order that hurt another."

"You have friends alright," Sam remarked walking back to where she was standing. "You have friends that know how to play your game and will only to say things that are going to make you feel better. And as for the orders that were given to me … maybe you should ask your so-called friends what orders they've followed the ended in someone getting hurt."

"My friends are honest," she retorted shoving a finger in his face.

"No, you're friends sugar coat it because they are afraid that you can't handle the truth," he replied smugly.

"You have no idea what … agh!" Bridget growled getting madder by the minute. "You're a piece of work."

"I'm a piece of work? Please! Your split personality is a piece of work," he commented throwing up his hands. "I can't keep up sometimes. Can't tell if who reported to work, Bridget or Red Cap."

"They are one in the same," she growled crossing her arms indignantly at her chest.

"No way," Sam replied. "See Bridget ... she's emotional and keeps trying to fit in … maybe too hard sometimes. But Red Cap? She's top notch. She knows how to stand up for herself, how to separate."

The words sizzled in the air as silence settled between them. Bridget was so angry with him she didn't know if she should slap him or just walk out. Sad thing was he was completely right and she knew it. How many times had Mack, Beau, Bob or Square have to repeat it for it to sink in?

"Did you ever consider that maybe the events occurred that night because I knew you could handle it?" Sam said quietly after a moment.

"What?" Bridget snapped at him.

"I knew you would fight me that night," he said crossing his arms at his chest.

Bridget stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"When we were at the bar in Paris, what did you tell me?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just humor me," Sam replied. "What did you say about the drunk at the bar?"

"That he was drunk," she said flatly not understanding where he was going with it.

"No, you said you hated obnoxious drunk guys," Sam corrected her. "And why did you curse me out after I told him to buzz off?" "

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I said I could take care of myself."

"Right. So a series of events occurred that night to set my plan into motion," Sam said walking closer to where she was standing. "I irritated you during the op for no other reason than to get under your skin. I drank a couple of beers fast enough to give the appearance of being drunk. I made some rude obnoxious comments that were solely directed at you and the ultimate bad idea ….I hit on you at the bar. All things that I know really piss you off … and then, the icing on the cake, which I hadn't even planned for, was when Bob swooped in to warn me off." Sam held his hands out to his side and a wicked grin crawling across his face. "So when I showed up in the parking lot of your apartment and tempted fate…"

"I was ticked off enough to fight you," Bridgett said filling in the blanks.

"You played right into the ruse," Sam said filling the air with fast talking rhetoric trying to convince Bridgett that she wasn't the victim in this whole mess.

"There was no way you could have known I wouldn't call the police," Bridgett tried to argue.

"It's not your style," he interrupted. "At least it's not Red Cap's style anyway. It's unit tradition to keep our dirty laundry in house. And for the record, I would have never taken it any farther than I did, that's why I played it out in the middle of the parking lot where anyone could see us, under the lights."

Bridget considered his words carefully as all the puzzle pieces fell into place. The conversation in Paris, his warning in the hall, the obnoxious drunk act, even the team's response to it … all made sense now in retrospect.

"What if I wouldn't have fought you?" she asked putting it all together.

"I would have stopped," Sam said flatly. "I would have retreated and thought of a different strategy for my exit. Whether you want to admit it or not, Bridge, you knew inside there was a reason for my actions. Bob and Mack told me you were starting to figure it out."

Bridget milled around the locker room in silence, trying to work through what he had said. _Bob knew, _she repeated silently. _So what? The jokes on me? Maybe Mack was right that I was over thinking it, _she mulled over in her head as he puttered around in the background. _Or maybe it's just another example of how people take advantage. _

"You thirsty? You wanna beer?" he asked reaching in for two. He popped both lids and held the bottle out for her to take. A few more seconds ticked off the clock before she made any move toward him.

"This doesn't make up for anything you know," she said reaching for the bottle.

"I never said it did," he replied taking a swig of the beer. "But the next time you have your head stuck up your butt, I'm not going to be afraid to tell you."

"There's not going to be a next time_," _she resolved. "And for the record, I didn't have my head stuck up my butt. I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk."

"A crack in the sidewalk huh," Sam replied with a laugh.

"This girl still has a lot to prove with this team," Bridget replied with a smile. "But if you try anything like that again … I'll sick my cat on you."

Then End


End file.
